


White Noise

by subtlehysteria



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Demiromantic Akaashi, Demiromantic Kenma, Demisexual Akaashi, M/M, Panic Attacks, Penpal Hinata, Slight OOC, Slow Build, Underage Drinking, Violinist Akaashi Keiji, asexual Kenma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 68,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlehysteria/pseuds/subtlehysteria
Summary: When he finally made it to the front he was stunned. A man with a mess of black curls stood in the center of the crowd, a violin in hand. He was swaying back and forth in time with the music, his eyes shut and a serene look on his face. Unlike most buskers he didn’t have a hat or case for people to put money into, he was simply playing his violin, indulging in the music. People just happened to be there, listening to him.Kenma is a second-year University student, Akaashi a musical genius. Their friendship helps them discover new sides to themselves they didn't even realise they had.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma arrives at University for his second year, Kuroo mothers him because otherwise, Kenma would just be a hot mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just re-read this and realized there were a few mistakes... Hopefully, I was able to fix most of them

Noise. All he could hear was noise. 

Kenma gripped the handles of his suitcases tightly, concentrating on the sound of the wheels rolling on the pavement. His hands itched for his gaming console but he didn’t indulge, not yet. He needed to get through this crowd, he just needed to get to his house, unpack and then he could relax. He could plug into his Gameboy and chase away all this noise. He just needed to –

“Watch it!” 

Kenma stumbled, trying to catch himself before falling face first onto the pavement. The last thing he needed to commemorate his second year at university was a pavement-shaped bruise on his face. He got enough of that as a child. 

“Sorry,” Kenma whispered, not really meaning it. The guy he had bumped into was twice his size and impossibly boisterous as he continued to shout-say his opinion to his friends. He carried on walking like he hadn’t nearly run over the second year half his size. 

Baka.

Kenma adjusted the straps of his backpack and continued to make his way to his house, weaving between the crowds like a fish against the current. He couldn’t avoid touching people, unfortunately.

Not soon enough he was finally in front of his house, climbing (not running, that would look too eager) up three flights of stairs until he was standing in front of his dorm room door. Once he unlocked it, Kenma gave the door a good shove. It took three more kicks before the door finally swung open with a bang. It had been this way last year as well. Apparently, the maintenance staff still hadn’t gotten around to fixing it. He didn't really have the energy to care, though.

Kenma gave a great sigh of relief after stepping through his doorway. He slipped off his shoes and placed one between the door and it’s frame, using it as a makeshift doorstop (he’d have to invest in one for this year). Somehow Kenma had managed to get the same dorm room as last year and he was thankful. It was one of the few single rooms of the entire campus. It was small but comfortable and it felt like home. 

Dumping his bags in the middle of the room Kenma ran to his bed and belly-flopped onto the mattress. He probably should have put down his sheets first but he didn’t care, he just needed to rest. After a while, that got boring though so instead he pulled out his Gameboy and started playing whatever game was still in there. It didn’t really matter that he’d completed it years ago already; it was just going through the motions that helped brain wind down a bit after the hustle and bustle of the crowd.

He was just about to complete the boss level when he heard a knocking at his door.

“Kenma?” 

Kenma paused his game and looked over his shoulder to see Kuroo standing in his doorway with his shoe/doorstop in hand. 

“Seriously?” Kuroo asked, tossing the shoe up and down. The laces fluttered like wings. 

“The door still sticks,” Kenma answered, turning back to his game. He knew the winning combination needed to beat the boss but he took his time. He could still feel a buzz at the back of his mind from being surrounded by so many people. 

Kuroo chuckled and then Kenma felt his mattress sink as Kuroo sat down and lay back, using Kenma’s legs as his pillow. 

“You check in with mom?” Kuroo asked. In fact, Kenma hadn’t. 

“No,” he said begrudgingly, pausing his game again to pull out his phone. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know Kuroo was giving his know-it-all smile. The man was like a tomcat, all teeth, and confidence, strutting around campus like he owned the place. Kenma loved his friend but sometimes it could be a bit too much. 

Kenma’s mom picked up on the first ring and immediately asked if he was okay. No hellos, no jovial how are you's, just “Are you safe? Are you okay? Is Kuroo with you?” to which Kenma answered, “Yes, yes and unfortunately.” 

Kuroo gave a playful slap to Kenma’s thigh. “Oh please, you love me.”

Kenma rolled his eyes at this but Kuroo ignored him, knowing he was only joking and asked Kenma to say hi to his mom for him. 

Kenma did and his mother answered with a chuckle of her own. 

Kenma turned to look at Kuroo over his shoulder and said, “She says go to hell.”

“No, she didn’t, I’m like her second son.”

“Kuroo, you’re older than me.”

“Then she should love me even more! Older sibling rights!” Kuroo gave another one of his signature smiles whilst Kenma glared at him. 

“Whatever,” Kenma turned back to the conversation with his mother, retelling his arrival at the university and leaving out a few details: the anxiety from the crowd, bumping into the giant, the noise, the noise, the noise. He didn’t want her to worry. He never wanted her to worry about him even though that’s what being Kenma’s mother entailed. 

“And you’re safe? You’re in the same room as last year, yes?” 

“Yes, Okāsan,” Kenma mumbled. His hands were itching again and his legs were going numb from Kuroo’s weight. Kenma wiggled his legs, asking Kuroo silently if he could get off. Kuroo complied and sat up only to scoot to the wall and put Kenma’s legs in his lap. That was still uncomfortable so Kenma flipped himself over onto his back. Better. 

Kuroo drummed on Kenma’s shins as he continued to talk to his mom about the little things and the silly things, stuff she did that day and how she misses him already, asking if Kuroo wants to come over for winter break this year because he couldn’t last year. 

Eventually, Kenma’s mom had to go. “Stay safe, Kenma.”

“I will,” Kenma replied. He could almost see his mother’s smile. She ended the call. No goodbyes, no see you soons or talk laters. Just “Stay safe.” It was always like that, and Kenma felt comfortable knowing it always would be. 

“So,” Kuroo said after a while, chancing a glance at Kenma. His gold-brown eyes shone a little in the afternoon light. 

Kenma didn't answer because technically it wasn’t a question. After a while Kuroo continued, not caring about the awkward silence between them because it was never awkward. “Ready to unpack?”

Kenma’s response included groaning and trying to bury himself into his mattress.

“Nope, you’re not getting out of this one,” Kuroo picked Kenma up with ease and princess carried him to his bags where he ceremoniously dropped Kenma onto the floor. 

“Kuro!” Kenma whined, trying to crawl back to his bed.

“Nope,” Kuroo blocked Kenma’s path and continued to do so until Kenma gave in and turned back to his bags. He took his time unzipping his bag, flapping over the lid and letting Kuroo know just how irritated he was every second of it. Kuroo only gave Kenma “the look” until Kenma turned back to his task of unpacking.

“Don’t you have your own bags to unpack?” Kenma grumbled as he balanced a pile of clothing in his arms whilst attempting to open one of his drawers. No success. 

“Done and dusted,” Kuroo replied, opening the drawer for Kenma and helping him pack the clothes neatly inside. If Kenma were left to his own devices he’d live out of his bags the entire year which is exactly why he was thankful Kuroo was here to boss him around. Of course, he’d never say that out loud. 

“If by that you mean you left Bokutou to unpack then I suggest you run back now while you still can. There’s a fire hydrant in the stairwell somewhere.” 

“Hardy har, your sarcasm ceases to amaze me, Kenma,” Kuroo made his way back to Kenma’s bags and started unloading the next set of clothes. Kenma tried to sneak to the bed but Kuroo was already leading him away before he’d even taken the first step. 

“And besides,” Kuroo continued, “I trust Bokuto.”

“That’s because he’s your boyfriend, you have to,” Kenma snarked, folding his underwear halfheartedly and stuffing it into the top drawer. His mother would be appalled. 

“Perhaps,” Kuroo grinned at that and Kenma chose not to read too much into it. He already knew far too many details about Kuroo and Bokuto’s relationship. He could have lived out the rest of his life peacefully, none the wiser, but no. Kuroo was a chatterbox and willingly spurted everything and anything about Bokuto whenever he had the chance. 

Kenma had learned to block it out by now. 

Kuroo and Bokuto had shared a dorm room since their first year and had instantly become friends. Kuroo wouldn’t shut up about him during their Skype calls but Kenma hadn’t minded. He was happy Kuroo had made a friend. And besides, he had his pen pal, Hinata, to talk to, so it wasn’t like he was lonely all the time. 

The first time Kenma met Bokuto he had been bombarded by a mess of silver and black. He’d nearly been choked to death by the grip that was a Bokuto hug. 

“Bo, you’re gonna kill him, ease up a little,” Kuroo had said, unable to hide his grin. Kenma would punch him for it later. 

“Oh! Oh, sorry man, I’m just, it’s really nice to meet _the_ Kenma, you know?” 

“The Kenma?"

“Yeah, Kuroo won't stop talking about you!” Bokuto had laughed at this, swinging an arm around Kuroo’s shoulders. Kenma had noticed the slight flush of pink that danced across Kuroo’s cheeks. He hadn’t commented on it at the time but that should have been his first clue.

Once Kenma had joined the two sophomores at the same University, he’d been able to see their friendship blossom into something more. He saw the way Bokuto would look at Kuroo when Kuroo wasn’t paying attention and how Kuroo would look back when he did. How their arms seemed to brush whenever they walked together, fingers nearly touching but neither man willing to make the first move. He noticed how they fed off each other’s energy and yet were able to have quiet moments as well. One time Kenma had stormed into Kuroo’s dorm room to rant about one of his lecturers only to find the two men cuddling in Kuroo’s bed. They were practically the same height, and with Bokuto’s large shoulders and Kuroo’s lanky arms and legs they barely fit in the bed, but it worked. They worked.

It had taken a year of Kuroo questioning himself and Bokuto doing the same, both coming to Kenma for advice about the other (unbeknownst to the other’s feelings) before they finally got together. 

They were complete idiots, to say the least.

Kenma hadn’t even had a part in their confession. Kuroo had managed to get slightly more than tipsy at a party (even though he said he wouldn’t), leaving Bokuto to drag his drunken roommate halfway across campus to reach their dorm room. It wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but it was the first time Kuroo had let his feelings slip.

Bokuto said, and Kenma quotes, “I literally just wanted to kiss him then and there.” But he hadn’t. Instead, he had helped Kuroo to the bathroom so he could throw up and then sent him to bed with a bottle of water and an aspirin. Bokuto hadn’t slept that night.

The next morning Kuroo had woken up and immediately remembered what he had said the night before. Bokuto had managed to fall asleep in the desk chair he had dragged to Kuroo’s bed, his head cradled in his arms.

It was six a.m. when Kuroo called Kenma, panic-stricken and not knowing what to do. 

“Just talk to him,” Kenma had said, desperate for Kuroo to hang up so he could go back to sleep, “You’ve already said it, so just talk about it. You’ve been looking for an excuse, here’s your chance.” Usually, Kenma didn’t talk this much in one go, but he had been eager for sleep, the warmth of his comforters already causing his eyes to blink closed.

“Kenma, I can’t! I don’t want to –“

“Don’t want to ruin your friendship,” Kenma finished his best friend’s sentence for him. 

Kuroo had huffed at that.

“Just talk. Bokuto loves you; I know this for a fact. So just talk.”

“But –“

“Talk!” Kenma had ended the call, ignoring Kuroo's protests. He hadn’t heard from either man until after supper when they waltzed into Kenma’s room holding hands.

Since then they’d been inseparable. And like Kenma knew they would, they worked. They were goofy and hazardous together but also had their sweet moments. Sure they argued, Bokuto frequently going into his mood swings and Kuroo being too stubborn to be the first to talk but eventually, they’d sit down and communicate and fix the problem. Kenma wasn't usually one for romance but this much he could understand: once you find someone you're comfortable with, who you can trust, you'll never be alone. 

“And then I was like, Bo, you can’t say that in public and –”

Kenma smiled to himself as he continued to unpack his bags with Kuroo, listening in every once in a while to Kuroo’s nth rant about Bokuto and thinking _This could be a good year._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma's first day back doesn't go exactly according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter so I'm really sorry if it's boring. I am making a bit of a slow build so just warning you guys now. Hopefully, if the next chapter goes according to plan, we'll get to meet Akaashi!

Kenma woke to the sound of his alarm and immediately regretted it. He rolled over, crushing his face into his pillows to try block out the blaring siren. It didn’t work. 

Eventually, Kenma found the will to turn to his bedside table and fumble for his phone, barely managing to keep his eyes open as he unlocked the screen and switched off his alarm. That was the third alarm he had set and he still wasn’t awake but somehow he succeeded in getting himself out of bed (albeit by rolling onto the floor). 

Kenma crawled over to his bags and rummaged through one of them in search of his makeup bag, regrettably coming to the conclusion that the task would be easier if he actually opened his eyes. Kenma shuffled to the mirror atop his chest of drawers once he’d found what he was looking for. 

After unzipping his makeup bag Kenma turned it upside down, dumping all of his supplies onto the counter. He knew he should be more careful, most of his makeup was actually pretty expensive, but right now he didn’t care. He had half an hour to get ready, get a cup of tea and run to the opposite side of campus, all to arrive on time for an eight o’clock lecture. It didn't help that it was Monday morning. 

After staring at the counter for a minute, Kenma finally spotted his concealer and started his make-up routine. He didn’t wear it all the time, but on the days he needed a little boost of confidence, Kenma was willing to put in the effort. This was one of the few things he didn’t do for anyone else but himself. 

Kenma finished off with his favourite: eyeliner. He loved the sound of the lid when it came off. 

Confidently, Kenma made two easy strokes on either eye, flicking the tips to create the base for his signature cat-eye. He thickened the lines a little until they more-or-less matched up. Looking in the mirror, Kenma was happy with his work. The eyeliner accentuated his already prominent, cat-like eyes, making the gold of his irises pop. It was one of the few things he liked about himself. 

Not really caring about his hair, Kenma decided to go with a simple half-up look, tying the top layer of his hair into a little bun. He was still going through the arduous task of growing out the bottle-blonde dye in his hair, leaving his dark roots to stick out like a sore thumb. He shrugged, deeming it too early in the morning to worry about stuff like that and grabbed the first sweater in his drawer. It was the over-sized green one that Kenma reserved for "I don't give a shit" days. This was one of those days. He pulled on his jeans from yesterday, not even bothering to change out of his sleeping shirt as he slipped his sweater on top. 

Before leaving Kenma made sure he had everything he needed in his backpack: writing pad and a pen, computer, glasses, Gameboy, water bottle, wallet, student ID, house key. Everything was there. He put on his shoes and shut the door carefully behind him, even though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference to whether or not it would stick.

Creeping down the stairs, Kenma flinched slightly when a stair creaked under his weight. _Please don’t wake anyone up, please don’t wake anyone up._ He didn’t.

Kenma let a sigh of relief escape his lips as he quietly slipped out the front door of his house, locking it again behind him. He decided to take it slow, figuring he had enough time to dawdle a little on his way to the campus coffee shop. Kenma took in his surroundings, his eyes following the floating red and yellow leaves as they fell from their respective branches and down, down, down to the ground. It reminded him of the butterflies in spring. A slight breeze was pulling at Kenma’s hair, making the shorter wisps loosen from his bun and tickle his nose. He noted how cold it already was even though it was just the start of autumn. He guessed it was going to be a cold winter. 

After ten minutes of walking, Kenma found himself nearing the campus coffee shop. It was a small little building just off to the side of the main courtyard, barely noticeable unless you knew where to look. It was a completely different world inside. 

Smelling like freshly ground coffee and home, the campus coffee shop was rustic with a slightly modern twist. It was hipster without being hipster, which was what Kenma loved about it. All of the chairs and tables were mismatched and painted to look as if they had been left out for the elements to deal with. A bookcase stood proudly in the corner, sporting books both old and new for customers to borrow and buy if they wished. Other shelves covered the walls, all decorated with random objects: some were statues, others toys and figurines or miniature cacti. There were a few gemstones here and there and even a set of Russian nesting dolls. 

That was new, Kenma noted as he made his way to the counter. No one was there. Kenma reached for the bell, giving it a light tap so that whoever’s shift it was would know he was there. The ding of the bell echoed in the silent shop. 

Suddenly a lanky figure appeared in the doorway of the back room, struggling to tie on his apron as he tripped over his shoelaces. He must have been new because he certainly didn’t look like he knew what he was doing. 

“Hi!” he said a little too enthusiastically, “How can I help you?”

“Chai latte please,” Kenma muttered, trying not to meet the man’s eyes. It wasn’t too difficult considering he was an entire head taller than Kenma. 

“Sure thing!” the man gave another wide smile before yelling over his shoulder, “Yaku-san, one chai latte!”

“You don’t need to yell, I’m right here,” to his surprise, Yaku Morisuke came walking out of the back room, tying his own apron around his waist neatly before looking up and meeting Kenma’s eyes. 

“Ah, Kenma-san, the usual?” 

Kenma only nodded before ducking his head. He knew Yaku from last year; he was another friend of Kuroo’s and had been working at the coffee shop for as long as Kenma had been at the university. He was nice enough but he could be blunt and his height was a touchy subject to be avoided at all times. 

“Yaku-san, can you even reach the machine?” the other man asked. Apparently, he didn’t get the memo. 

Yaku gave a kick in lieu of an answer before turning to the coffee machine to make Kenma’s order. The lanky man pulled a face, rubbing his backside. His protests fell on deaf ears, though, as Yaku continued to ignore him. 

Kenma stood and watched this from the other side of the counter, enthralled by their little performance. It almost made him laugh. Almost. 

“Here you go,” Yaku said once he’d made the finishing touches to Kenma’s chai latte, sprinkling cinnamon atop the heaping amount of foam that threatened to overflow. 

“Thanks,” Kenma said, placing a lid on top so it wouldn’t spill. Yaku had apparently remembered Kenma’s order perfectly, a grande sized chai latte with extra foam and cinnamon. He took a tentative sip. It was perfect. 

Yaku gave a look to his coworker before knocking his hip non-too-softly with his own. 

“Ow! What did I do now Yaku-san?” the man whined. Although his height made him appear older, the man acted like a child being scolded. Kenma squinted at the man’s nametag: Haiba Lev he read. Kenma tried to pronounce the name under his breath. Lev. That was a foreign name. It would explain his too-long limbs and silver blonde hair. 

“You need to tell him the price baka!” Yaku said, exasperated. He looked like he was at the end of his tether and it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. 

“Ah! Right, sorry. That’ll be,” Lev fumbled around with the cash register, pressing seemingly random buttons until a number appeared on the screen, “Five hundred and fifty yen please!” Kenma pulled out his wallet and handed over the exact amount, making sure not to touch Lev’s hand in the process. 

Kenma chanced a glance at Yaku to find his head in his hands. He looked as if he was about to cry. 

“Thank goodness, you remember something I taught you!” Yaku said, glaring up at Lev. There was a wicked grin on his face. Even though they had an immense height difference, Yaku somehow managed to make himself appear taller than Lev with the confidence in his stance and the glint in his chocolate brown eyes. Lev hunched his shoulders whilst putting Kenma’s money in the cash register as if mentally preparing himself for another kick. 

“Thank you for coming, ah, Kenma-san, right?” Lev asked hesitantly.

“Just Kenma is fine.”

“Ah! Okay, well I hope you come again soon Kenma!”

Kenma nodded his head and turned on his heal, leaving the two coworkers to bicker behind the counter. He let a small smile play on his lips as he took another sip at his tea. It really was delicious. 

***

Kenma had just barely made it to his lecture on time. His little detour to the coffee shop took longer than he expected. 

His lecturer was busy setting up his computer already by the time Kenma came running in, balancing his chai latte in one hand whilst holding on tight to the strap of his backpack with the other. 

“Sumimasen,” Kenma said, ducking his head before making his way up the stairs. He found a seat right at the back of the lecture hall with only two other people in his row. Perfect.

He managed to set up his computer and put on his glasses in the time it took his lecturer to introduce himself. Today’s first lecture was more of an introduction to the work they would be doing as second-year graphic designers, what the workload would be like and how they would need to up their game if they were really serious about this subject. To be honest, Kenma’s heart wasn’t fully into graphic design. However, it was the closest he could find to game design in the university’s subject options and he figured it would be useful. 

It was, in a way, as it helped him find his way around Photoshop and other applications he would need in game design. However, they usually focused more on advertisements and website design, how to offer their services to companies in need of designers to promote their ideas. The curriculum didn’t really give any room for its students to try and promote themselves. 

After an hour and a half of Kenma doodling on his notepad paper, his lecturer wrapped up his speech and let his students go free. Kenma hastily packed away his computer and other stationary, choosing to leave his glasses on as he made his way back to his dorm room. He didn’t have any other classes that day so he had the rest of the morning and afternoon to do as he wished. Which meant sleeping, gaming, and more sleeping. 

However, Bokuto and Kuroo had other plans.

Kuroo kicked Kenma’s door open yelling, “Honey, I’m home!”

Kenma didn’t even glance up from his game as Kuroo stormed in, dragging Bokuto behind him. They filled the room to the brim with their energy, immediately chasing away the sense of serenity Kenma had been experiencing moments before. 

“Hey, Kenma!” Bokuto said, giving a small wave.

“Hello Bokuto-san,” Kenma said, half-distracted as he was still playing his game. This one was slightly new and he hadn’t managed to defeat this level yet. It was proving more difficult than he had originally thought.

“What, no hello for your childhood and bestest friend?” Kuroo asked, pulling a pout Kenma could just see out of the corner of his eye. 

“That's not even a word,” Kenma replied, not really paying attention. 

One moment, Kenma was seconds away from beating his level, the next his Gameboy was ripped out of his hands and tossed onto the foot of his bed. 

“Kuro!” 

“Come on, we’re going out,” Kuroo said, all seriousness. Kenma huffed, blowing a piece of fringe out of his eyes. He knew Kuroo was doing this for him. Kuroo knew Kenma’s limits and was always willing to toe the line if it meant getting Kenma to socialize with other people, and Kenma appreciated that at times. Tonight just wasn’t one of them.

“It’s our first day back, do we really need to go out?” Kenma asked, trying to reach for his discarded Gameboy. 

“That’s exactly why we should go out,” Kuroo grabbed the Gameboy again and placed it behind his back. 

“Kuro,” Kenma grumbled, trying to reach behind Kuroo’s back, “Please don’t do this, not now.”

“Do what?” Kuroo asked, a grin splitting his face.

“Kuro,” Kenma said, halfheartedly trying to grab his Gameboy back. Kuroo yanked it away each time until he decided to hold it above his head. That was just plain cheating and Kenma told him as much. 

“Just come out with us, it’ll be fun!” Kuroo said, dodging Kenma each time he attempted to jump for his gaming console. 

“You and I,” Kenma jumped. “Both know,” he missed. “That that’s,” he jumped again. “A lie,” he missed again. Eventually, Kenma gave up and flung himself onto his bed. 

“Can I at least bring my Gameboy?” Kenma asked in one final attempt to get his console back. 

“Nope. I will let you bring your phone, though.”

“How considerate,” Kenma muttered before sitting up again. Kenma paused, running through his limited options. Eventually, he came to the only probable conclusion. He'd have to go out with Kuroo and Bokuto.

“Fine, I’ll go. But you’re paying.”

“No can do, already paying for Bo,” Kuroo said, placing Kenma’s Gameboy in the drawer of his bedside table. 

“It’s okay, I’ll pay for myself,” Bokuto offered, sending a smile towards Kenma. Kenma returned it in his own way, the corners of his lips barely lifting. 

“Bo, why have you gotta be so nice?" Kuroo sent a look Bokuto's way. They communicated through looks and eyebrow lifts for a minute before Kuroo turned back to Kenma. He sighed, seemingly giving in to Bokuto. "Fine, I'll pay for Kenma. Change your shirt and then we can go." 

“What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“You slept in it,” Kuroo said, pairing it with _the look_.

Kenma humphed before reaching down for his emerald green sweater he’d worn earlier.

“Nope, we’re finding you something nice to wear,” Kuroo said, snatching away Kenma’s sweater and chucking it onto the bed. 

Kenma wanted to complain but knew it was pointless. Once Kuroo had his mind set on something, there was no going back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma ends up being Kuroo and Bokuto's third wheel and decides to go on a night time walk instead. 
> 
> *Violin music echoes in the background*

Kenma was bored out of his mind.

He had ordered a small bowl of ramen, not wanting to spend too much of Kuroo’s money, and had finished it far too soon. Bokuto and Kuroo were only halfway through their meals, having interrupted each other constantly to tell a funny story or give a quick peck on the cheek. It made Kenma uncomfortable.

He understood that when you loved someone you did things like this, you showed affection in public. It made him happy to see his best friend happy but at the same time being present in moments like these made him feel small. Kenma’s stomach churned as he ducked his head, fiddling with his phone. Bokuto had an arm around Kuroo and was kissing him up and down his neck, Kuroo squirming and pushing Bokuto’s face away playfully. They were practically having a tickle fight in the middle of a restaurant and all the while Kenma sat there not understanding this feeling.

It wasn’t jealousy. He knew what that felt like, Kenma understood the difference. This was discomfort. He tried to imagine experiencing what Kuroo was right then, someone trailing their fingers up his spine, planting kisses on his cheek and nose. Kenma shivered.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, getting up from his seat and making his way to the bathroom. Kuroo didn’t seem to notice, too busy trying to defend himself from Bokuto’s onslaught of kisses.

Kenma splashed ice-cold water on his neck and cheeks, brushing his hair away from the nape of his neck.

_Breathe. Breathe. It’s okay. They’re just being a couple. It’s what couples do, there’s no need to be scared._

Was that it? Was he scared?

Kenma stole a look at his reflection, meeting bright gold eyes. Distress. There was distress in his eyes.

Kenma pushed off from the sink, turning off the tap before making his way back to his table. He stopped short when he saw Kuroo and Bokuto. They had calmed down now, Bokuto’s arm still slung around Kuroo’s broad shoulders. They had stopped tickling each other and instead were talking softly, whispering into one another’s ears occasionally. Kuroo burst out laughing and Kenma’s heart ached.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

Kenma turned to find a waiter near the door of the kitchen, a stack of plates in his arms.

“Is there any chance I could you use the back door?” Kenma whispered. He didn’t like talking to people he didn’t know. Usually, Kuroo was the one to introduce him, order for him at restaurants, and even say what’s on his mind for him. But Kuroo was on a date with his boyfriend and Kenma didn’t know if he could handle being seated across from them for the rest of the night.

“We’re not really supposed to –” the waiter started. But then he met Kenma’s eyes and must have seen something because he broke into a soft smile and nudged the kitchen door open with his hip.

“Okay, just this once.”

“Thank you,” Kenma said, not meeting the man’s eyes as he was lead through the bustling kitchen. People, people, too many people. Just keep walking, just keep moving, it’s okay. You’ll be okay –

“Here you go,” the waiter said, giving another soft smile as he opened the back door for Kenma. He had discarded his pile of plates along the way. Kenma must have been too distracted to notice.

“Thank you..."

“Sugawara,” the waiter said, offering his hand.

Kenma looked at it then back up at the waiter, trying to communicate through his eyes. I don’t do this, I don’t touch people. I’m sorry.

The man, Sugawara, smiled and nodded his head. He lowered his hand, placing it on his hip.

“Do you want me to tell your friends you weren’t feeling well?” he offered.

Kenma stopped and turned to face Sugawara properly. He was slight, with big hazel brown eyes and a mole below his left eye. He was actually quite pretty.

“It’s okay. I’ll message them,” Kenma said. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome –”

“Kenma,” Kenma offered.

“Kenma,” Sugawara nodded his head, as if to say, of course, before turning back to the kitchen. He waved Kenma goodbye before disappearing through the door.

 

***

 

**Kenma: Hi, not feeling well, ducked out. Sorry.**

**Sent 20:08  
Read 20:09**

 

**Kuroo: When?!**

**Sent 20:09  
Read 20:09**

 

**Kuroo: Kenma, are you okay? Do you need me to walk you back?**

**Sent 20:10  
Read 20:10**

 

**Kenma: Heading back now. Don’t worry. Tell Bokuto-san I’m sorry.**

**Sent 20:11  
Read 20:11**

 

**Kuroo: Okay. If you need anything, let me know x**

**Sent 20:12**

 

Kenma chose not to unlock his screen, leaving Kuroo’s last message unread.

He pocketed his phone and continued walking down the street, not really knowing where he was going. Surrounded by people, Kenma could feel the noise start to build up. There was some or other night market going on, people shouting their wares and trying to grab stranger’s attention with what was for sale: hot chocolate, pork buns, rice balls, soup.

Kenma’s stomach growled.

“Tch,” he muttered, before pushing away from the crowds. He just needed time alone, to clear his mind and not have to think.

Autumn leaves littered the pavement, creating a carpet of flames for people to walk across. They crackled under Kenma’s heel.

Kenma wanted his Gameboy, anything to distract himself. Most of the games on his phone were completed by now and his battery was nearly flat anyway. Instead, he let his mind wander. A cool breeze shifted the air, picking up leaves and scents and music and blowing them all away.

Music. Kenma could hear music.

Kenma tilted his head and listened closely, trying to block out the noise of the crowd. It was definitely the sound of music, floating towards him on the soft autumn breeze. Something classical. It guided him around the corner.

The sight before him was inexplicable. A giant circle of people appeared to be crowded around something. Kenma’s curiosity was peaked but at the same time his mind screamed at him I can’t do this, there’s too many people, I can't.

Kenma turned, about to make his way back to the University when a lilting note caught at his ears, pulling him back. It was different from anything he had ever heard.

Kenma stood there, his hands digging into the pockets of his jacket. He was trying to build up the courage to push his way through the crowd, to see who or what was producing such sounds. If Kuroo were with him it would be easy, he could just hold onto his sleeve and let Kuroo do the rest. But Kuroo wasn’t here because he thought Kenma was sick and he was having a good time with his boyfriend and -

_No_ , Kenma thought. _I can do this._ He slowly started wading through the crowd.

_I can do this_. He nudged his shoulder against someone, tripped over someone else’s foot, mumbling “Excuse me, I’m sorry,” the entire way.

_I can do this_ , Hhe reminded himself, over and over as he made his way towards the front, trying to see what had caught everyone’s attention. Who was making this music?

When Kenma finally made it to the front he was stunned. A man with a mess of black curls stood in the center of the crowd, a violin in hand. He was swaying back and forth in time with the melody, his eyes shut and a serene look on his face. Unlike most buskers he didn’t have a hat or open case for people to put money into, he was simply playing his violin, indulging in the music. People just happened to be there at the right time.

Kenma couldn’t recognize the song, he didn’t really know any classical music, but it was beautiful all the same. He found himself swaying in time with the musician.

This went on for another minute or so before the violinist started slowing down, the movements of his bow decelerating. The violinist finished off on a strong note and opened his eyes to find a crowd of people clapping at his performance. He didn’t smile or bow, only nodded his head, acknowledging his audience. He didn’t really seem to care whether they were there or not.

The man packed his violin away to the crowd’s disappointment, some encouraging him to continue while others already started moving on to other attractions. The man then turned to another case at his feet and produced what looked like a violin from a different century. Half of the body appeared to be missing, a thick black outline surrounding the neck and strings. The man turned and plugged in an aux cable, connecting his violin to an amp at his feet as well as bringing out a box with a pedal. He fiddled with the strings, plucking them with his fingers and running his bow back and forth to test the sound, the notes amplified to fill the entire courtyard.

The man paused for a second, resting his bow on the strings. His eyes connected with Kenma’s. Kenma was caught off guard, a small gasp dropping from his lips. He brought his hand to his mouth in the false hope he could take it back but it was too late, the violinist had seen it. He smiled and started playing.

The tune was simple at first, tugging at the back of Kenma’s memory. The violinist repeated this twice before pressing the pedal and suddenly changing the tune entirely, his previous rhythm playing back through the amp as he started to layer the sounds. This man knew what he was doing. Kenma didn’t know a lot when it came to playing an instrument, but just by observing this musician (his easy stance and light finger work) Kenma could tell he was in his element.

The violinist placed his bow between his lips, pressing the pedal once again before slapping a flat palm on the strings of his violin. It created a sound like a drum, making a baseline for the song. Quickly, he replaced his bow back to the strings and started with what Kenma assumed was the chorus of the song.

It was definitely a more recent song; something that would have been played on the radio but Kenma couldn’t wrap his head around the tune. It was familiar and yet entirely new at the same time.

The violinist continued this way, adding layer after layer to build up to the repeat of the chorus. At one point he even paused his backtrack and played the melody by itself. Then, at the press of the pedal, he brought back the backtrack at full volume to reach the finale of the song.

The cheering was immense. People were shouting and screaming for more, children tugging at their parents’ hands and asking how he did it. A group of girls even had their phones out, trying to sneak a picture of the musician.

The violinist ignored them all in favour of packing away his equipment, carefully placing his violin into its case along with his bow. One or two patrons came towards him, offering money. He declined.

The crowd began to thin when they realized the violinist had finished his set.

Kenma couldn’t move. His feet were frozen, rooted to the pavement like the trees that surrounded him. He felt separate and together all at once. One minute, the crowd was still there, crying for encores and “More, more, we want more!” and the next there was no one except the musician.

Kenma blinked and turned on the spot, looking around him. The crowd had dispersed, melting into the shadows of the night. This happened sometimes. When he got overwhelmed Kenma would black out. This happened frequently when he was a kid after the one time he got lost at a shopping center (he hadn't come out of his room for a week after that). But somehow, Kenma knew this was different. He wasn’t worried or stressed; if anything, he was calm. His breathing was normal; his thoughts weren’t racing a mile a minute. It was different. He didn’t know whether he liked it or not.

“Are you okay?” the musician asked, his voice soft but prominent.

Kenma nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“You look a little lost,” the musician continued, tilting his head to the left. For a moment he looked like an owl. That reminded Kenma of Bokuto.

Bokuto.

Kuroo and he would surely be finished by now; they were probably already heading back to the University. How long had it been since he’d left the restaurant? One hour, two?

Kenma shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

“I,” he muttered, trying to get the words out. “I, I have to go.” Kenma spun on his heel and started running towards what he thought might be the University. At this point, he didn’t really know. He just needed to get back to his room, back to what was familiar and safe.

The musician didn’t call after him, and Kenma was thankful. He didn’t feel like trying to make small talk.

Eventually, he managed to make his way back to his dorm room, fumbling with his key and kicking the door a good number of times before it gave in. Kenma immediately slammed it shut after him, kicking off his shoes and flinging himself onto his bed.

He couldn’t sleep. The tune was stuck in his head. Over and over again it played, begging Kenma to remember what it was called. The name was on the tip of his tongue. Kenma snuggled further into his pillows, hoping to escape the sounds echoing in his ears. To no prevail.

He found himself humming the tune under his breath as he tossed and turned, flitting between words and song titles.

He came to the chorus and suddenly it hit him.

_Tell me what you want to hear, something that will light those ears, sick of all the insincere, I’m gonna give all my secrets away._

Secrets. It was a western song by some or other American band. Kenma remembered it being popular a while back.

He sang the words to himself, like a lullaby, his eyes beginning to droop. The last thing he remembered before sinking into sleep was a hint of a smile and the lilting sound of a bow on strings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got the inspiration for Akaashi's performance from here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=czkJYLqylzs
> 
> This is an amazing electric violinist/street performer called Bryson Andres, please go check him out if you have the time. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed x
> 
> (And for those who don't know, the song is Secrets by OneRepublic.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo is a worried mother hen and Kenma decides to go in search for the anonymous musician (he may or may not stop at a bookstore along the way).

Music invaded Kenma’s dreams. 

He was back in the courtyard, the crowd of people surrounding the violinist as he played his song. 

Kenma looked to his left and spotted Lev and Yaku, the former with a child-like grin on his face and the latter more relaxed than Kenma had ever seen him. To his right Kenma could make out Bokuto and Kuroo, a little further back into the crowd. Kuroo had his arms around Bokuto’s waist, his head resting on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Kenma even spotted Sugawara who gave him a smile and a small wave before turning his attention back to the performance. 

Kenma did the same only to find the violinist staring straight at him. 

It was unnerving.

The violinist continued to play but rather than having his eyes shut like he had earlier that night he kept his gaze locked with Kenma’s, never breaking away. 

The crowd melted away, seamlessly becoming a part of the shadows until only Kenma and the violinist remained, standing in a single pool of light. Kenma stepped forward so as not to be swallowed by the shadows. 

The light kept receding, bringing Kenma closer and closer to the violinist, not once breaking eye contact until they stood face to face. The violinist stopped his playing, his violin vanishing from his hands yet the music continued to play. They stared at each other for eternity. 

Kenma wanted to say something, anything. You’re very talented; I enjoyed your music, it made me breathe again, I’m sorry for running away. 

He wanted to ask the violinist his name. 

“Kenma? KENMA!”

Kenma sat up abruptly to find himself in his room. Kuroo was knocking relentlessly at his door, running his throat raw. 

“Ugh,” Kenma fell back onto his pillows before yelling at Kuroo to come in already. He’d left the door unlocked last night. 

It only took Kuroo two tries before the door swung open. Kuroo made sure it banged against the wall, for extra dramatic effect.

“Where were you?”

“Hello to you too,” Kenma grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. When he looked at his hands he found black smudges decorating his palms. He must have fallen asleep with his makeup on. 

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” Kuroo asked, ignoring the fact that Kenma was still half asleep. 

“I did,” Kenma replied, reaching for his phone. 

“The first ones, yes, not the last twenty.”

Kenma tried to turn his phone on but it wouldn’t wake up. The battery was flat. 

“It’s dead,” Kenma said, struggling to plug the charger in. Eventually, he managed to jam the charger in, his phone screen immediately lighting up. Kuroo had over exaggerated. 

“There’s only five texts,” Kenma said, unlocking his screen so he could read through the sea of exclamation and question marks from Kuroo. 

 

**Kuroo: Did you make it back all right? ******

********

**Sent 21:01  
Read 08:09**

 

**Kuroo: Kenma???**

**Sent 21:10  
Read 08:09**

 

**Kuroo: Okay, you’re not in your dorm room and no one’s seen you come home yet. Are you okay?**

**Sent 21:22  
Read 08:10**

 

**Kuroo: KENMA! Please answer I’m worried!**

**Sent 21:25  
Read 08:10**

 

**Kuroo: You weren’t really sick, were you?**

**Sent 21:30  
Read 08:10**

 

“Yes, what, yes, sorry and yes,” Kenma said, listing off his answers. 

Kuroo did not look in impressed. 

Kenma’s “I’m sorry,” barely came out as a whisper.

Sitting down on the edge of Kenma’s bed, Kuroo ran his hands through his eternal bed head. Somehow it almost looked better. 

“I was really worried. No one had seen you and you’d said you were sick and I just –“

“I know. I’m sorry. I just needed space,” it was a lame excuse and a complete understatement but it was the best Kenma could give at that time. He didn’t know how to explain to Kuroo what he’d felt: the discomfort and the queasiness and the confusion all mixed together in his stomach like some sick concoction. How could he explain to Kuroo that seeing him with his boyfriend made him question everything he knew a relationship was supposed to be like? 

“You could have said so, we would have understood,” Kuroo said, trying to meet Kenma’s eyes. The worst part was that Kenma knew this was true. Bokuto would have gone so far as to suggest his leaving so Kenma and Kuroo could enjoy their dinner, even though Kenma was the one who had intruded on their date... 

“I know.”

They sat in silence but it wasn’t the comfortable kind. Kenma was the first to break it.

“I just, needed some time to think about some things.” _Keep it ambiguous and Kuroo won’t ask too many questions, he’ll drop the subject eventually..._ Of course, Kenma should have learned by now that that never worked. 

“Things?”

Kenma nodded his head yes.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Kuroo persisted.

Kenma shook his head no, keeping his eyes on his hands in his lap. He’d managed to sit up by now, using his pillows as a back rest against his headboard. He dragged his knees to his chest and bundled himself into the smallest ball he possibly could, head tucked into his arms. 

Kenma felt fingers run through his hair and sighed into the touch. If it were anyone else, he would have flinched. But it was Kuroo, Kuroo who was his best friend since childhood, one of the few people he trusted. Kuroo was safe. 

“You know I’m here if – when you do want to talk,” Kuroo said, playing with the longer strands of Kenma’s hair. 

Kenma nodded, not ready to look up just yet. 

He needed to say something. Kuroo would understand, he’d try to help; he’d give advice even if he didn’t know exactly what Kenma was feeling. He’d help Kenma through this, would try to understand. He would –

Kenma’s thoughts were interrupted by the ding of Kuroo’s phone. 

“Sorry,” Kuroo said, “Probably Bo, he was worried about you last night.”

Kenma flushed at this. He hadn’t known Bokuto all that long, in comparison to Kuroo. The fact that he was so concerned bloomed warmth in Kenma’s chest. 

Kuroo checked his phone and cracked a smile before showing Kenma the screen.

 

**Bo: Kuroo, is he okay?**

**Sent 08:13  
Read 08:14**

 

**Bo: Did he make it home safe???**

**Sent 08:14  
Read 08:14**

 

**Bo: Is he hurt?????**

**Sent 08:14  
Read 08:14**

 

**Bo: PLEASE DON’T TELL ME HE’S HURT I MIGHT CRY!!!?!?!??!**

**Sent 08:14  
Read 08:14**

 

Kenma chuckled, letting a small smile slip into place. This smile was reserved for those he felt most comfortable with, Kuroo and his mother being the only two (unless he put Shouyou in with the mix, but they only ever really communicated through letters). 

“Can I?” Kenma gestured at Kuroo’s phone. Kuroo handed it over without hesitation. 

Kenma wrote a quick apology to Bokuto, stating that yes he got home safe, no he wasn’t hurt, that he didn’t need to worry and that Kuroo was with him now. He didn’t say it in so many words but he was sure Bokuto would get the message. 

Kenma handed Kuroo back his phone, which immediately lit up with another wave of messages. 

Kuroo smiled, thumbs dancing over the screen as he replied to Bokuto.

They sat like that for a while, a comfortable silence taking over as Kuroo settled in and Kenma slid back down to his mattress. He didn’t have any classes that day, meaning he had the entire day to do as he liked. 

Maybe he could go down to the coffee shop again and see how Yaku was doing. He could walk into town afterward and find that second-hand bookstore from last year. He was in need of new material. 

Maybe he’d see the violinist again. 

Kenma shook his head at that last thought. The possibility of him seeing the musician was slim to none. He wasn’t one of the regular buskers Kenma remembered from last year if anything his performance appeared to be a last minute set up. He hadn’t even opened his case for spare change. 

No, the chances were too slim. He wouldn’t see that musician again anytime soon. 

Kenma focused back to Kuroo, who was resting his head in Kenma’s lap as he texted Bokuto. Technically Kuroo was supposed to be in class with Bokuto if Kenma remembered correctly. Of course, that didn’t seem to be stopping Kuroo from talking to him. 

“Don’t you have class?” Kenma asked, jostling his legs to bring Kuroo’s attention back down to earth. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, but it’s okay. It’s just the intro class, you know how it is.”

“Kuro, you can’t skip class just to check up on me.”

“Of course I can, you’re important Kenma.”

“So is your degree,” Kenma muttered, sliding his legs out from under Kuroo’s head. Kuroo fell back to the mattress, squawking in protest. 

“Okay, I get it. You don’t want mama Kuro hanging around,” Kuroo sighed dramatically before pushing himself up off of Kenma’s bed. 

“You don’t have class today, hey?”

Kenma shook his head no. 

“Okay, relax today, take some time to think about whatever’s worrying you. Or don’t, whatever you wanna do,” Kuroo shrugged, trying to play off his concern. 

“Just let me know if you wanna talk,” he reminded Kenma, again, for the third time. 

“Hm,” Kenma hummed. _Keep it ambiguous._

“Right… I better get going if I’m gonna make it to class on time.”

“You’re already a half hour late,” Kenma deadpanned. 

“So then why bother?” Kuroo made as if to lie back on Kenma’s bed but Kenma beat him to it, pushing at Kuroo’s back. 

“Ah! Gravity… is pulling… me down!” Kuroo swooned, putting all of his weight onto Kenma. 

“Kuro!” Kenma said, trying to smother his giggles into the crook of his elbow. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Kuroo pulled himself back up. He was all seriousness now as he turned to look at Kenma.

“Just, remember what I said, okay?”

“I know,” Kenma said. 

Kuroo gave his signature smile before sauntering off out of the door. He left a tiny gap between the door and its frame so it wouldn’t stick. Two seconds later, however, his hand shot through the doorway to retrieve his forgotten shoes, a laugh and a “See you later” receding down the stairway. 

Kenma smiled to himself before leaning back against the wall. 

He was fully awake now, so there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. 

He figured he wouldn’t mind a chai latte right about now.

***

“Kenma!” Lev greeted him as he entered the store, already behind the counter. He looked more confident than yesterday, his apron securely tied around his waist and his green eyes alight with enthusiasm. He looked as if he could have been working there for years. 

“What can I get you?” Lev asked, punctuating it with a smile. 

“Chai latte, grande,” Kenma said, keeping his answers short. 

“Right! Yaku-san isn’t here just yet so I’ll try my best okay?” 

Before Kenma could protest, Lev was already grabbing an empty coffee cup and heading to the machine. 

He looked like a child lost in a store. 

“Hm, where did he put it now,” Lev wondered aloud as he searched for something on the shelves below the counter. 

He managed to knock his head on one of the lower shelves before finding what he was looking for. “Ah hah! Should have guessed,” Lev turned and beamed at Kenma, “Yaku-san used it last, so of course, it’ll be on the lowest shelf.”

Kenma didn’t know whether he was stating a fact or making a joke. He didn’t laugh either way. 

“Right, so if I remember correctly,” Lev muttered to himself as he tried to open the lid of the container in his hands. The lid came off with a pop, clattering to the floor. 

“Whoops, all well,” Lev scooped a tablespoon of a grey-white powder into Kenma’s cup, spilling some onto the floor and counter. 

Lev didn’t seem to notice as he started whistling, moving to the coffee machine. 

Here he paused, contemplating the machinery before him. 

“Uh,” Kenma started. He could wait for Yaku to get here, he didn’t mind, he wanted to say but Lev was already fiddling with some of the levers and dials, hot water spurting out of one of the tubes. 

“Ah! Here we go,” Lev placed Kenma’s cup underneath the tube and proceeded to pour the steaming hot water into the cup. He filled it to the brim. 

“Here you go,” he said, handing the cup over to Kenma. 

Kenma looked down at the watery mess that was supposed to be his chai latte. 

“Um…”

“Did I forget something?” Lev asked, all honesty and child-like confusion. 

“The foam, baka,” a voice said from the doorway. 

Kenma turned to find Yaku standing in the doorway of the coffee shop, arms crossed and an eyebrow arched. A smile played at his lips. 

“Ah! Gomen'nasai Kenma-san, I’ll fix it right now!”

“It's okay,” Kenma started, even though it really wasn’t. 

“No, it’s not,” Yaku said for him, making his way behind the counter and pushing Lev none-too-gently away from the coffee machine. “Here, I’ll remake it for you,” Yaku said, taking Kenma’s cup away from him and throwing its contents down the drain. 

“And you,” he said, turning to Lev, “Watch closely.”

Yaku had this down to an art form. His arms moved seamlessly, reaching for the powder whilst simultaneously preparing milk to froth. Kenma’s order was ready in no time and all the while Lev stood there with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. 

“Woah,” he muttered, as Yaku handed over Kenma’s new and improved order, adding the finishing touches with a sprinkle of cinnamon. 

Lev bowed low at the waist, ducking his head as he practically yelled, “Please teach me Yaku-sensei!”

“What do you think I’ve been doing the last two days?” Yaku muttered. Kenma could just see a hint of a smile on his lips however as he turned back to Kenma. 

“Don’t worry about paying, this one’s on the house,” he said. 

Kenma was about to object when Lev interrupted him. 

“I am truly, very sorry Kenma-san! Please forgive me!” Lev gave another low bow, his head nearly hitting the counter. 

“It’s okay,” Kenma said, “Thank you for trying.”

Lev shot up at this. His green eyes shone like emeralds, his smile beaming. 

“I will do better next time, I promise! And I will get your order perfectly right!” he stated. 

“You first have to learn how to actually use the coffee machine,” Yaku muttered before turning back to the mess Lev had made. 

Kenma nodded his head, not knowing what else to say before he left the shop. 

***

Kenma used his finger to get the last few dregs of foam in his cup, the sugary taste still present on his lips. He ran his tongue over his teeth. They felt fuzzy.

After throwing away his cup, Kenma carried on walking in the direction he remembered the second-hand bookstore to be. He’d come across it his first year at the university, having Kuroo and Bokuto give him a tour of the little town adjacent. 

Kuroo and Bokuto had walked right past it, both talking a mile a minute and not really noticing that Kenma had decided to enter the store. 

Kenma smiled at the memory. 

He’d spent over an hour in there before Kuroo had found him, running into the store and panting, sweat gleaming on his face. He'd looked as if he’d run a marathon. 

Kenma had gotten a good scolding after they’d left the store, but not before he’d purchased an entire armful of books that were on sale. 

Kenma decided to make a detour now, heading to the courtyard where the violinist had been the night before. He just wanted to check.

He wasn’t there. 

People walked past him towards the shops lining the streets or the park opposite the courtyard, unaware of the fact that last night Kenma had experienced what he would consider magic. 

Kenma tried not to be too disappointed as he carried on walking to the bookstore. He’d expected as much. He should have known the violinist wouldn’t be there; last night had probably a one-time only kind of performance. 

A bell rang as Kenma entered the store, immediately bringing a sense of comfort. Kenma could feel his shoulders lose all their tension as he closed the door behind him, stepping further into the store. 

Technically the sign outside stated it was a bookstore, but there were always other artifacts to be found. People treated the store like a second-hand store for everything and anything. Littering some of the tables and shelves were knick-knacks and odd pieces of junk. If he looked carefully, sometimes Kenma would find a hidden treasure: a beautifully decorated porcelain jar, a box filled to the brim with real silver jewelry. And those weren’t even the real treasures. 

The books available for buying came in all shapes, sizes, genres and states. From brand new to over fifty-year-old copies, the shop sported every type of book imaginable. Kenma ran his fingers over some of the spines, the corners of his mouth lifting against his will. 

As much as he identified as a gamer, Kenma was also an extensive reader. His mother had been worried when he’d started picking up the habit of turning to his games in stressful situations and decided if he was going to escape he might as well do it through books. It was one of the best decisions she had ever made. 

Kenma had been wary at first when his mother handed him an old copy of a picture book series called “Shiba-Wanko No Wa No Kokoro”. The story was about a calico cat and how he learned manners from his roommate and friend, a Shiba-inu dog. At first, he’d thought it ridiculous. Animals couldn’t talk, they couldn’t learn to clean and wear kimonos. It just didn’t work that way. He’d said as much to his mother who had only smiled and said, “And what about your games? Are those realistic?”

“No,” a six-year-old Kenma had muttered, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“And that’s why you like them, yes? They take you somewhere else?” his mother asked, kneeling down so that she was at eye level with Kenma. 

Kenma had nodded. 

“Well, it’s the same with books. They can take you far away without you ever having to move. You can be a pirate or a space adventurer or the most daring person in the world. And all with a few words written on a page.”

After that, Kenma had agreed to try his mother’s book series again. He’d found that he actually identified with the calico cat more than he realized. He’d finished the series in less than two days. 

“Please may I have more books, Okāsan?” he’d begged. 

His mother had smiled and nodded, “Of course itoshī anata.”

Every Christmas and birthday from then on Kenma would either get a new book or a new game. 

“Can I help you?” 

Kenma stopped in his tracks, his fingers still caught on the spine of a book. That voice, he knew that voice. 

Kenma turned slowly towards the person who had addressed him, spotting a man sitting behind the checkout counter of the store. 

Long fingers held a book daintily in his hands, a page half way from being turned. A green, hooded gaze met Kenma straight on before widening slightly in recognition. 

“Ah, lost again I see?” the violinist asked, a smirk appearing on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Japanese translations (I'm really sorry if these are wrong, I did try to keep them simple. If anyone has any corrections let me know!)
> 
> Baka - Idiot
> 
> Gomen'nasai - I am very sorry
> 
> Okāsan - Mother
> 
> Itoshī anata - My darling


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter than the rest (the next one might be as well...) but hopefully, the next few chapters after will be longer *crosses fingers in dire hope*
> 
> Hope you enjoy x

Kenma blinked and then blinked again, trying to clear his head. 

The violinist. The violinist was here. He was working at his favourite bookstore, he was here and he was staring at him.

“Are you okay?” the violinist asked, dropping his smile for a look of concern. 

Kenma nodded his head. 

“You seemed a little off last night,” said the violinist, putting down his book once he’d placed a ribbon as a bookmark. 

“I was just… I was thinking too much,” Kenma muttered, not willing to divulge the details. He didn’t know this man; he didn’t even know his name. 

“Did it help?”

That caught Kenma off guard. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Did it help? The music?” the violinist asked, all sincerity. His heavy-lidded gaze never wavered. It reminded Kenma of his dream. 

Kenma found himself nodding. “Yes, a little.”

With a hint of a smile, the violinist nodded back. “I’m glad to hear that. So, anything you’re looking for in particular?”

“Uh,” Kenma stumbled on his words. This always happened. He met new people and the words wouldn’t come out. They’d get stuck halfway up his throat and sometimes it felt like he would choke on them. This man had already seen Kenma run away just because he’d been asked if he was lost. That wasn’t an option this time round. “No,” Kenma sputtered. “I just came to browse.”

“Okay.” The violinist picked up his book and carried on reading where he’d left off, leaving Kenma to his own devices. 

Kenma let out a breath he didn’t even realise he’d been holding in. He took the time to close his eyes and breathe deeply. His psychologist had taught him this method when he was younger. _Ignore everyone else, they don’t matter. All you need to do is focus on your breathing. Find a pattern, and you’ll be safe._

Kenma counted back from ten, releasing a small gust of air the entire time until his stomach felt like a deflated balloon. 

When he opened his eyes the violinist wasn’t looking at him, but rather turning a page of his book. Somehow, that made Kenma feel lighter. Usually when he had an episode people would either flutter around him, asking how they could help and only making him feel worse, or they would give him the look. The one that said, “What’s wrong with you?”

The violinist did neither. He seemed to be giving Kenma his space, neither pressuring him to speak nor making him feel unwelcome. He just happened to be there, reading his book. 

Kenma turned to the nearest shelf and started perusing the titles, trying to distract himself. His fingers unconsciously started running down the spines of the books, dipping here and there where the titles were embossed. Kenma took his time, reading each title until he could remember the pattern: Cloud Atlas, Huckleberry Finn, The Light Bearer, How To Kill A Mockingbird. They must have been new arrivals, not yet placed in their separate categories. 

“That one’s very good,” the violinist said. Kenma looked to see which book he meant and found his fingers tracing the spine of a well-loved novel. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. Kenma picked it up and read the blurb to himself. 

_The circus arrives without warning, no announcements precede it… it is simply there when yesterday it was not._

That wasn’t really much to go on. 

“What’s it about?” Kenma asked, looking over his shoulder in the direction of the counter. 

“It’s about magicians and a game they play, a sort of competition. It carries on for about thirty years and the game board is a circus,” the violinist explained. Although his voice did not contain much inflection, Kenma could tell he had enjoyed the story. It was something in the way one corner of his lips turned up as he explained the plot. 

Kenma hummed his response, turning back to the book. He flipped through some of the pages, reading a few of the chapter titles. Each one was placed in a different year and setting, the story jumping from place to place. Now that he thought about it, Kenma hadn’t read anything fantastical in a while. 

“How much?” he asked.

The violinist stretched out a hand, silently asking for the book. 

Kenma hesitated at first. He was scared he’d annoyed the violinist. But, the man made no move to get up, sitting patiently and waiting for Kenma to approach him. 

Kenma took one tentative step, then another and another until he stood facing the violinist opposite the counter. 

He handed over the book, making sure their fingers didn’t brush. 

The violinist turned the book over in his hands, flipping open the back cover and reading a pencilled in price on the page there. 

“It was around six hundred yen when it was first sold but because the spine is kinda damaged,” the violinist opened the book to demonstrate. The book looked as if it were about to break in half, the covers meeting each other halfway as the pages fanned out. Kenma reached before thinking and shut the book. 

The violinist blinked before continuing, “I’ll give it to you for four hundred yen.”

Kenma dug in his pockets for his wallet, unearthing several other things in the process before finally finding what he was looking for. He felt his cheeks warm up as he pulled out four one hundred notes. He slid the money over the counter. 

The violinist picked the notes up and shuffled through them, counting to see if it was the right amount. Kenma noticed how long his fingers were, his nails short and neat. Musician’s hands. 

“Here you go,” the violinist said, placing the receipt in the front cover of the book before handing it back to Kenma. 

“Thank you,” Kenma mumbled, taking the book and clutching it to his chest. 

The violinist tilted his head. Like the night before, it reminded Kenma of an owl. 

“I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thanks,” Kenma said, averting his eyes. He felt his toes curl inwards as he stood at the counter, not knowing what to do. He’d thought he’d never see this man again. He hadn’t thought what he might do, what he could ask if he did. He certainly hadn’t pictured buying a second-hand book from him. 

“You’re welcome,” the violinist said, his mouth tilting up just barely. 

Kenma nodded his head before exiting the shop, the bell ringing in his ears long after he’d walked through the door. 

_What was that? What_ was _that?_ Kenma thought as his legs propelled him forward, moving further and further away from the bookstore. 

His name. He didn’t even know his name. 

Kenma stopped short and glanced over his shoulder. The shop was still visible, peeking out between a maintenance store and a stationery shop. It almost felt as if it were beckoning him. 

His name. Just ask him his name and then you never have to see him again.

_But I want to._

Kenma couldn’t imagine how he looked right now to the crowd in the courtyard. A strange young man with half a head of blonde hair pacing, thinking too loudly so probably everyone could hear. He needed to leave he needed to recharge. But he wanted to stay.

Taking another deep breath, Kenma turned on the spot and started speed walking to the bookstore, taking advantage of what little courage he had mustered up. 

Kenma entered the store, the bell above his head announcing his arrival. The violinist looked up from his book once again, surprise dancing across his face. 

“What is your name?” Kenma blurted. 

He was met with silence and then, a soft murmur. 

“Keiji. Akaashi Keiji,” the violinist said, his voice softer than Kenma had ever heard it. 

“Kozume Kenma,” he bowed, taking the time to drag a deep breath in before straightening up again. “I really enjoyed your music last night.”

With that, Kenma made a beeline for the door, not even stopping to hear what the violinist, Akaashi, might have to say. 

***

Kenma clutched his new book tightly to his chest as he walked back to his dorm room, counting his steps in a rhythm. _One, two, three and four. One, two, three and four._

Kenma didn’t bother with a makeshift doorstop this time round. He shut his door behind him, not caring whether it would stick or not, and sank to the floor. 

His chest felt heavy and his head was spinning. What had he done? Had he really said that?

He replayed the conversation over and over again, checking to see if the violinist had been irritated with his behaviour. 

Only soft smiles and heavy-lidded eyes littered his memory from moments before. 

_Keiji. Akaashi Keiji._

Kenma whispered the name to himself; as if it were a secret he had stumbled upon by accident. 

He couldn’t help but think the name suited the violinist.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma is a bookworm and Kuroo tries to get his best friend to socialize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so this ended up a lot longer than expected...
> 
> It was so short at first and then my fingers slipped so yeah, super long build up but it's worth the next chapter, I promise!
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Counting down from ten once, twice, three times, Kenma’s shoulders finally dropped, the knots in his stomach unravelling. After a while, he was able to stand. Kicking off his shoes, Kenma crept into bed and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t stop thinking.

Akaashi. His name is Akaashi and he works at my favourite bookstore. I saw him and I could see him again if I wanted to.

Did he want to?

Kenma reached for his Gameboy, looking for a distraction. He didn’t get it. His thumbs kept missing the buttons and he couldn’t even get past the first level. The screen was starting to blur into a mess of pixels and overly bright colours. Kenma threw his Gameboy onto the foot of his bed in frustration before falling back onto his pillows. He didn’t even bother saving the game.

Turning onto his side, Kenma eyed his new book on the bedside table. The cover was black, decorated with white patterns and illustrations of figures, the occasional pop of red appearing in the form of a scarf or ribbon.

_It’s about magicians and a game they play. A sort of competition._

He guessed it was worth a shot.

Kenma flipped to the first page with the title Anticipation. It described the arrival of a circus and apparently the reader of the book (in this case Kenma) was the main character. But as Kenma continued to the next chapter the book switched to limited third person, giving a date and place of where the chapter was set. This was going to be confusing.

It took a while to get into it but, after a few chapters, Kenma was admittedly hooked. Sometimes he would have to re-read the beginning of a chapter, to understand where it fits into the ever-changing timeline but the writer was good. She explained details without becoming boring, which Kenma was grateful for.

He spent the rest of his afternoon in bed reading, only getting up to grab a quick lunch before flopping back into bed. He stayed up most of the night as well, ploughing through one chapter after the other. Before he knew it his alarm was going off for his eight o’clock lecture the next day.

Kenma had two classes on a Wednesday: design in the morning and Japanese and English literature in the afternoon. They were two-hour lectures each and he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Typical. He would have a few hours in between to spend as he liked, meaning enough time to have a catnap. Or maybe to carry on reading…

Either way, Kenma couldn't help but smile as he took his chai latte from Yaku the next morning. (Yaku was still trying to teach Lev how to properly use the coffee machine.)

Akaashi had been right, he thought, as he walked to class; it was a good book.

 

***

 

“Kenma?”

Kenma looked up from his book to find Kuroo staring at him, curiosity and something else in his eyes. Amusement.

“What?” Kenma asked.

“Nothing. I just haven’t seen you with a book in a while. It’s sort of surreal.” Kuroo grinned, slurping up the last of his noodles.

They were in the University’s cafeteria for lunch, having both completed their Thursday morning lectures for the day. Kenma had had his creative writing course while Kuroo and Bokuto had Human Kinetics. Both were studying Kinesiology as their major along with playing volleyball on the side. Kenma had internally scoffed when he realized that even though those two had practicality shared a schedule, it still took them almost two years to start dating.

“I haven’t read anything good in a while,” Kenma muttered, trying to concentrate on the words in front of him while simultaneously taking a bite of his rice ball.

“Where did you get that book anyway?” Kuroo asked, placing his chopsticks neatly atop his bowl before pushing it away. He wiped the sides of his mouth with a paper napkin. Despite his appearances, Kuroo was actually very well versed in the art of table manners. Bokuto could learn a thing or two from him.

“That second-hand bookstore I like,” Kenma said, taking another bite of his rice ball only for it to collapse into his lap.

“Hm,” he groaned. He did not need this right now.

“Here,” Kuroo offered a napkin that Kenma took gratefully. He looked at which page number he was on before closing his book, gently placing it on the table. Akaashi had been right; the spine was practically falling apart. Kenma panicked slightly every time he so much as turned a page, fearing his new book would disintegrate in his hands before he could finish it at least once. He was planning on reading it again soon.

Kenma picked up what was left of his rice ball and placed it in the napkin, sighing internally now that half of his lunch was gone.

“Want me to get you another?” Kuroo asked, already standing.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll wait till supper.”

Kuroo sat down again. He knitted his fingers together and leaned forward slightly.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Kenma looked up at this, only to find a mischievous look directed his way.

Kuroo wasn’t mad, just teasing. Maybe he’d forgotten about Monday night? (Kenma was probably praying in vain but it didn't hurt to hope.)

“There isn’t really anything to tell,” Kenma said.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but –”I’m here if you want to talk. Kuroo communicated through his eyes.

Kenma smiled and nodded. I know.

 

***

 

Kenma was just walking out of his final class for the week when he received a message from Kuroo.

 

**Kuroo: Hey, you free tonight?**

**Sent 16:32  
Read 17:02**

 

**Kenma: it’s Friday**

**Sent 17:03  
Read 17:03**

 

**Kuroo: And you’re Kenma**

**Sent 17:03  
Read 17:04**

 

Kenma pulled a face at his phone. Kuroo knew Kenma wouldn’t have anything to do on a Friday night. It wasn’t like he’d willingly go to any of the on-campus parties. Sometimes Kenma quailed at how well Kuroo knew him.

 

**Kenma: then you already know the answer**

**Sent 17:04  
Read 17:04**

 

**Kuroo: ;)**

**Sent 17:05  
Read 17:05**

 

**Kuroo: Bo’s meeting a friend and wants me to come with, but we don’t want the guy to feel like a third wheel. Feel like going on a double date?**

**Sent 17:05  
Read 17:05**

 

Kenma could feel his brow scrunching as he re-read Kuroo’s words.

Double date?

Kenma had never been on a date. He’d never really been interested in them in high school, and, to be honest, he still wasn’t. He didn’t see the appeal in sitting awkwardly with a random person in a restaurant, hitting words back and forth like a tennis ball to “get to know each other”. It just didn’t make sense to him. Why do that when you could spend time with people you already knew and felt comfortable around? He could see the irony in that as even he and Kuroo had been strangers to each other once. But that was when they were children with no other intent than to not be bored on a summer’s day. This was different. The word date had a whole other meaning.

Kuroo seemed to sense Kenma’s distress as he immediately wrote after:

 

**Kuroo: it's not an actual date, I just mean we don’t want the guy to feel lonely. He’s apparently a really close friend with Bo, so they’ll probably end up talking most of the night anyway. If anything, I want you to come so I don’t get lonely ;)**

**Sent 17:05  
Read 17:05**

 

Kenma considered this carefully.

He was this close to finishing his book. Whilst he’d been reading it late into the night and every available minute he had to spare between classes and homework, it was still a long read. Kenma was thankful, though, it kept his mind occupied, away from everything that happened recently. He didn’t want to confront those feeling he’d had on Monday during his supper with Kuroo and Bokuto. Not yet anyway.

He honestly didn’t feel up to making small talk with a stranger and knowing Kuroo and Bokuto, once they were in the same room together, there was no separating them. Kenma had experienced this first-hand multiple times.

Then an idea came into his head.

 

**Kenma: where would you wanna go?**

**Sent 17:09  
Read 17:09**

 

**Kuroo: maybe that restaurant we went to on Monday? The food was really good and Bo seemed to like it.**

**Sent 17:10  
Read 17:10**

 

Kenma hadn’t seen Akaashi since he had purchased his book on Tuesday, not knowing how to approach him or what they would even talk about if he did manage to muster up the courage. Kenma could see Akaashi perform again, maybe. Would he be performing tonight? It was Friday though; perhaps he would be out with friends...

Kenma’s thoughts were interrupted by the ding of his phone.

 

**Kuroo: Kenma?**

**Sent 17:11  
Read 17:11**

 

**Kuroo: Kenma! Please answer :(**

**Sent 17:11  
Read 17:11,**

 

Kenma huffed before typing out his reply, sending it before he could think better of it.

 

**Kenma: Okay, but I want dessert this time**

**Sent 17: 11  
Read 17:12**

 

Kuroo answered immediately.

 

**Kuroo: you got it kitten! ;)**

**Sent 17: 12  
Read 17:12**

 

Kenma sighed before pocketing his phone. He smiled but just barely.

 

***

 

Kenma arrived late, having said he’d meet Kuroo and Bokuto there. He’d wanted some time to himself to read as much as possible. Suffice to say, he’d lost track of time.

“Sorry,” he muttered, sliding into the booth Kuroo and Bokuto had chosen. They were sharing the one side; meaning Kenma would have to sit next to Bokuto’s friend. He sent a glare to Kuroo. You planned this.

Kuroo only shrugged and turned to talk to Bokuto.

Kenma fiddled with the Gameboy in his pocket. He’d decided not to bring his book, not wanting to get distracted and missing any important details. The timeline was becoming more and more mangled as he went, jumping back and forth between multiple characters in quick succession. It was exhilarating and frustrating all at the same time.

“Hi,” a waiter had walked up to their table, presenting them with menus for them to browse through. “My name is Sugawara and I’ll be your waiter this evening – Ah! Kenma-san,” Sugawara beamed down at Kenma, his hazel eyes flashing in the fluorescent lights, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Kenma said, trying and failing to meet Sugawara’s eyes. He didn’t want to seem rude.

Sugawara’s smile softened. He understood.

“So, what can I get you?” he asked, turning to Kuroo and Bokuto.

“We’ll just order drinks, for now, we’re waiting for a friend,” Bokuto replied before picking up his menu. He was jumping in his seat, all nervous energy and child-like excitement. He must really like this friend of his, Kenma thought as he looked at his own menu. He already knew what he was going to drink but did it anyway, so he didn’t stand out.

Boktuo ordered a chocolate milkshake at first but Kuroo said he should save that for later because they were planning on having dessert. He winked at Kenma at this. Kenma refrained from rolling his eyes.

Bokuto pouted for a moment but immediately perked up when Kuroo whispered something in his ear. His eyes searched the menu at rapid speed as if it were a treasure map. Kuroo grinned over at Kenma, his bed head on full display. Kenma did not want to know what he'd said to spur Bokuto on. Kuroo only shrugged innocently before turning back to Sugawara to give his order.

It took Bokuto ages to make up his mind. While they waited, Kuroo ordered his usual glass of water while Kenma ordered an apple juice.

Sugawara stood patiently all the while, waiting for Bokuto to give his order. In the meantime, he made polite conversation to Kuroo. Kuroo asked how he and Kenma had met and so Sugawara told him the story (at least, most of it that fit with Kenma’s lie). Kuroo nodded along even though he knew Kenma hadn’t been sick that night.

“Ah ha! Got it,” Bokuto said, pointing at his selection enthusiastically for Sugawara to write down.

“Okay, coming right up,” Sugawara said, giving another polite smile before moving to the kitchen.

“He seems nice,” Kuroo said, sending another grin Kenma’s way.

Kenma chose to ignore it, pulling out his Gameboy instead.

“Where is Akaashi, he said he’d be here,” Bokuto whined, practically climbing into Kuroo’s lap so he could see through the floor-to-ceiling window to his right.

“He’s probably just running late,” Kenma started before he realised what Bokuto had said. “Wait, Akaashi?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said. He had pressed his face flat against the glass, his breath creating swirls of white on the surface.

“Bo, come on. I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Kuroo said, trying to hide his chuckle as he scooted Bokuto off of his lap.

“Wait! There he is!” Bokuto jumped right back to his place at the window. He looked like a puppy waiting for his owner to arrive home.

Kenma turned his head, looking out of the window. It was dark outside, the street lamps already lit up to lead the way. Sure enough, a figure passed the window, making his way to the front door of the restaurant. The door opened, letting in a small gust of autumn wind. The man rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them. He was looking around, searching for someone.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto yelled, sitting up on his knees and waving his arms manically to grab his friend’s attention.

The man turned and green eyes met gold.

Akaashi stood near the entrance of the restaurant, fully clad in black except for his denim jacket. It was decorated with a few patches on the left side, just where his heart would be. His hair was windswept and his cheeks were pink from the cold.

Kenma’s mouth dropped involuntarily.

Akaashi’s lip twitched.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto yelled again, scrambling out of his seat to run to his friend. He leapt into Akaashi’s arms, smothering him in a bear hug. Akaashi looked taken aback at first but then his face softened and he hugged back, albeit not as tightly.

He said something to Bokuto and pulled away to meet his eyes, only to be hugged again. Akaashi smiled.

Eventually, Bokuto broke away from Akaashi, leading him to their table. Kenma tried to remember how to breathe.

“Hello, I’m Akaashi Keiji,” Akaashi introduced himself to Kuroo with a slight inclination of his head. He turned to Kenma and did the same.

“Kuroo Testsurou and this is Kenma,” Kuroo said, introducing Kenma like he always did.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Akaashi said, meeting Kenma’s gaze.

Kenma spluttered.

“Hey, you okay?” Kuroo started before Sugawara interrupted him, bearing their drinks.

“Ah, so you’re friend’s arrived then?” he asked, setting down their drinks on the table.

“Hm, sorry to keep you waiting,” Akaashi said, taking a seat next to Kenma. Kenma stiffened. Akaashi seemed to notice this and scooted to the edge of the seat, giving Kenma some space. Kenma’s shoulders lost a little of their tension.

“Anything I can get you?” Sugawara asked, pen in hand.

Akaashi said his order and then turned to Boktuo, “Have you already ordered your food or would you like to do that now?”

“Yes! I’m starving!” Bokuto immediately rambled off his and Kuroo’s orders. Akaashi gave his order and then they sat in silence. Kuroo glanced at Kenma.

“Uh -” Kenma started.

“He’ll have the same as me,” Kuroo said, glancing at Kenma again.

_Is that okay?_

Kenma nodded. Kuroo nodded back before turning to Sugawara with his Cheshire cat grin. “So, Sugawara, come here often?”

Boktuo burst out laughing at Sugawara’s shocked look. Sugawara blushed before muttering, “Well, I work here.”

“I know, I know, only joking,” Kuroo said, giving a softer smile.

Sugawara nodded, his blush deepening before he turned to put their orders in with the kitchen.

“Shame, Kuroo,” Bokuto laughed, barely managing to get his words out. “The poor guy looked like he was about to combust!”

“Just easing the tension,” Kuroo said matter-of-factly.

Again, the table was enveloped in silence. Kenma reached for his apple juice, unsheathing a straw and stirring his glass’s contents, his Gameboy long forgotten. He kept his gaze fixed on the motion, his eyes going around and around in circles, following his straw. He could feel three pairs of eyes on him. He didn't like it.

“So, Akaashi,” Kuroo said, attempting to break the ice. “How did you and Bo meet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the cliff hanger! If I could have, I would have written it all in one go but then it would be way too long...
> 
> Next chapter should be up by tomorrow x
> 
> UPDATE:
> 
> The next chapter might not be up tomorrow because I'm really struggling with it and it's actually super important in the long run of the story so I'm sorry but I probably won't be able to keep my promise. Hopefully, it should be up in the next two days...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thing Akaashi expected was to see Kozume again so soon. 
> 
> (Akaashi's POV at the restaurant)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Okay, so I was actually able to push through my writer's block and write this chapter! I'm so, so happy!
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy x

Akaashi had to admit: he’d missed the bundle of inexhaustible energy that was his best friend.

Bokuto had tackled him the minute he walked into the restaurant and he never thought he’d be this happy to receive a hug. It was nice, being with someone he was comfortable with, who already knew everything about him.

Akaashi had been a little disappointed at first when Bokuto said he’d invited his boyfriend. He hadn’t seen Bokuto in over a year and he was hoping their reunion could be a little less… crowded. But Bokuto had sounded so excited on the phone, saying how long he’d wanted to introduce Akaashi to Kuroo and that he’d really like his friend Kenma.

“Kenma?” he’d asked, making sure he’d heard right.

“Yeah, he’s been Kuroo’s best bud since, like, elementary school. He’s really quiet so I think you guys will get along!”

_It must be a coincidence. It has to be,_ Akaashi thought as he rushed home to change from work. He’d been planning on just going straight to the restaurant after his shift but… the situation had changed.

After ten minutes of staring at his wardrobe, Akaashi was both late and still outfit-less. Eventually, he chose his go-to all-black outfit, adding his over-sized denim jacket for a bit of colour. It would have to do.

He ran to the restaurant, slowing down a block away to catch his breath.

He couldn’t get his hopes up, he repeated himself as he walked the last block.

_It might not be him,_ he thought as he entered the restaurant.

What were the chances?

He searched the restaurant for the familiar sight of white and gray streaks. His hands were freezing. He blew on them, rubbing his hands as fast as he could to warm them up.

Bokuto called his name and when he turned gold met green.

_Kozume. It was Kozume._

His lip twitched, an almost-smile beginning to bloom.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto yelled, forcing Akaashi to come back to his senses. Right, he was here, in a restaurant, with his best friend who hadn't seen in a year. He melted into Bokuto’s arms. It felt like home.

“It’s good to see you,” Akaashi said, pulling away from Bokuto a little. Bokuto beamed and tugged him into another embrace. Akaashi allowed himself to smile this time.

He introduced himself to Bokuto’s boyfriend, who had a serious case of bed head.

“Kuroo Testsurou and this is Kenma,” Kuroo said, indicating Kozume.

_So he doesn’t know._

“It’s nice to meet you,” Akaashi said, meeting Kozume’s gaze. He wasn’t wearing eyeliner tonight, but his eyes still resembled that of a cat’s. His irises were molten gold.

Kozume looked as if he were trying to say something but couldn’t get it out. Kuroo asked if he was okay when a waiter came to take their orders.

Akaashi sat down and felt a nervous tension coming off of Kozume in waves. He moved to the edge of the seat, trying to give the man as much personal space as possible. Kozume visibly relaxed.

After they ordered their food, Kuroo going so far as to flirt with the waiter (to Bokuto’s amusement), their table was enveloped in an awkward silence. Akaashi peaked over at Kozume who was swirling his straw around in his juice, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

Kuroo broke the ice, asking Akaashi how he and Bokuto had met. Akaashi silently thanked him under his breath. He tried to tell the story without including too many embarrassing details. Bokuto didn’t let him. Akaashi didn’t know whether to sigh or chuckle at his friend’s enthusiasm as he took over the story, over-emphasizing everything to make it sound like an epic fairytale rather than an embarrassing childhood memory. Kuroo didn’t look as if he believed a word of it, but nodded along anyway, laughing at just the right moments.

As he looked at the comfortableness between the couple, the amount of energy they had between just the two of them, Akaashi couldn’t help but think they looked good together.

Bokuto had started pestering him for all of the details of his travels when their food arrived. Akaashi was grateful; he didn’t know whether he was willing to explain all of that just yet.

They mostly ate in silence except for when either Bokuto or Kuroo decided to make a comment on something. They even went so far as to try interrupting the each other to get their story across first. Akaashi was amused, to say the very least.

“Hello.”

Akaashi turned his head to the left. Kozume had his face set to his plate, not so much eating his food as playing with it. Obviously, he didn’t enjoy mackerel.

“Hello,” Akaashi replied, turning his gaze back to his own food. Kozume didn’t seem very comfortable with eye contact. Akaashi could understand that.

“Are you enjoying the book?”

Kozume looked up across the table, so Akaashi did as well. Bokuto was trying to force feed Kuroo some of his beef yakiniku, stating that “It’s way better than those glorified fish fingers!” Kuroo playfully pushed his face away at each attempt.

Kozume took advantage of their friends’ distractedness, answering with a simple, “Yes,” before turning back to his food.

“Story making any sense?” Akaashi asked, taking another bite of his nanohana. He hadn’t had anything close to Japanese food in over a year. He still couldn’t get used to the familiarity of it all.

“A little,” Kozume answered after a while. He pushed away his plate, already done with his meal. He’d barely made a dent. “The timeline is confusing at times.”

Akaashi hummed at this, finishing the last of his meal and pushing his plate away as well. He considered himself a slow eater but, at the rate Kuroo and Bokuto were eating their meals, he figured they would be here a while.

“It will be, but, everything makes sense at the end.”

Kozume nodded in agreement, reaching for his apple juice and finishing it in one go. Unlike most people, he didn’t make the slurping sound with his straw.

“I think,” he said, setting his now empty glass down, “If I re-read it the story will make a little more sense.”

“It’s definitely worth a second read. It’s one of the few books you can read a million times and never get bored with, in my opinion.”

Kozume turned to Akaashi, his golden eyes looking at the space just over his shoulder.

“Hm,” Kozume answered, before turning away again.

They didn’t say anything after that.

 

***

 

“Can I offer you dessert?” their waiter asked, having cleared their table. He was avoiding Kuroo’s eyes, to both Kuroo and Bokuto’s amusement.

“Your biggest chocolate milkshake with two straws please!” Bokuto said, wiggling a thumb between him and his boyfriend to indicate they’d be sharing.

“Okay, and for you?”

Akaashi ordered a small bowl of green tea ice cream whilst Kozume ordered a slice of apple pie.

When their orders arrived Kozume dug straight into his dessert. This, Akaashi mused, he actually seemed to be enjoying.

Kuroo chuckled, telling his friend to slow down otherwise he’d choke. Kozume glared up Kuroo before taking a massive bite of his pie. That made Akaashi smile.

Soon after, they got the bill and headed out to into the night, Bokuto stating it was too early to go to bed. So they walked: Bokuto and Akaashi in the front with Kuroo and Kozume a little ways away. Bokuto rambled on about his volleyball team and how much progress they’d made in the time Akaashi had been away. Akaashi had to remind him more than once to breathe.

Bokuto carried on talking and Akaashi listened half-heartedly. Boktuo didn’t seem to mind, just happy to have his best friend back on the same continent. Akaashi took the opportunity to look over his shoulder. Kuroo was walking alongside Kozume, the former all swagger and confidence, the latter quiet consideration. Kozume kept fiddling with one of his jacket pockets, gnawing his bottom lip. He looked as if he were about to bite it clean off.

“Oh!” Bokuto stopped in his tracks, eyes wide with glee. “Kuroo! Look, it’s a night market!" He turned to Akaashi, his eyes pleading and his lips forming a pout. He looked like a child begging for candy, "Can we check it out?”

Akaashi chuckled before nodding his head, saying, “Go for it.”

If Bokuto had feathers they would have ruffled with excitement. He ran to the nearest stall, calling Kuroo to come check something out.

Kuroo started making his way to the stall before stopping. He turned and looked directly at Kozume, a question in his eyes. Kozume gave a brisk nod, flicking his hand in a shooing motion.

Kuroo gave a grin before jogging over to his boyfriend. Bokuto immediately found his hand, pointing at something that had caught his eye with the other.

“How long have you been playing the violin?”

Akaashi jumped before turning to find Kozume at his side.

“Oh, uh. Since before I met Bokuto, maybe when I was around fourteen?”

“That’s a long time,” Kozume mused. He didn’t sound disinterested even though his face said otherwise. Akaashi took this as a sign to continue, “I actually started pretty late compared to other music students. Most of the musicians I’ve competed against or met started when they were five already. I was considered the late bloomer,” Akaashi smiled at the memory.

He was fifteen when his instructor had entered him into his first competition. He’d been so nervous his hands had shaken. He’d gone so far as to ask if he could back out just before his turn. His instructor had refused, saying Akaashi should experience a competition at least once. Akaashi had nearly fainted then and there.

Once he’d stepped out onto the stage, the spotlights half-blinding him and the heartbeat in his ears louder anything else, the shaking had gotten worse. He had dropped his bow. He couldn’t see the audience, he couldn’t hear anything either. He thought he’d gone deaf for a second, panic rising in his throat. But, as he had placed his bow on the strings, slowly forming the first note of his set piece, he'd known he would be okay.

He had enveloped himself into the piece, allowing the notes to override all of his senses. Before he knew it his piece was over, the music still ringing in his ears as the audience had applauded him. A few small groups of people even stood up, his mother the loudest of them all.

His knees had given out once he’d made it safely backstage.

Akaashi turned to look at Kozume. Kozume was looking back.

“Do you want to –?” Akaashi tapered off, not really knowing how to voice his question.

_Do you want to make sure our two idiots don’t run off without us?_

Kenma seemed to get the gist of what he was asking because he nodded before making his way in the general direction Kuroo and Bokuto had disappeared.

Akaashi jogged to catch up.

They walked in a hushed calm, choosing to take in their surroundings instead of talking. Akaashi felt as if they were in a bubble that was just for the two of them. As if they were separated from the rest of the world even though an entire crowd had gathered to the night market, walking about on this chilly night.

Akaashi shivered. He suddenly regretted his outfit choice.

Kozume looked the complete opposite in his over-sized jersey and puffy, military-styled jacket. He opened his mouth, about to say something, when Kozume stopped in his tracks. Akaashi followed his line of sight to find Bokuto and Kuroo scooping for goldfish. They were both on their haunches, their too large frames looking almost comical compared to the children surrounding the pool. Bokuto was yelling, shouting at Kuroo to go that way, no this way, Kuroo cackling the entire time.

Akaashi looked at Kozume and saw a sadness in his eyes. No, not sadness, bewilderment. Akaashi was about to ask what was wrong when Bokuto yelled his name, trying to catch his attention. He looked over and saw Kuroo holding a bag with two goldfish proudly as if he’d just caught the catch of the day.

Kozume made his way to the couple, Akaashi just behind him.

“Akaashi, Kenma! Look! Aren’t they awesome!” Bokuto pointed at the fish in Kuroo’s hand, jumping up and down.

“Hm, are you going to keep them in your dorm room?” Akaashi asked, not wanting to ruin the mood.

“Yeah! We’ve named the one Hide and the other Mitsu!”

“After those famous samurais,” Kuroo explained.

Kozume had edged closer to the pool. His head was ducked, phone in hand. He pocketed his phone before turning to face the rest of the group.

“Shall we continue?” he asked.

“Yeah! Oh, look over there!” Bokuto grabbed Kuroo’s hand and ran, already half way to the next stall in a blink of an eye. Kozume and Akaashi shared a look before trudging after their respective friends.

Out of the corner of his eye Akaashi could see Kozume’s mouth tipping upwards. His eyes didn’t hold bewilderment anymore, but rather, fondness.

 

***

 

By the end of the night Akaashi’s feet were dead. Kozume didn’t look far off either, having sat down on a bench to catch his breath.

Bokuto had carted them around to nearly every stall, stopping at one only to have his attention caught by something else. He’d give a hoot of happiness every time he spotted something “weird” or “so cool”. Multiple times either Akaashi or Kuroo would have to talk him down from buying whatever expensive merchandise he insisted on buying because, "We might need it Kuroo!"

Kozume tugged on Kuroo’s sleeve, Kuroo ducking down to hear what he had to say. He nodded, straightened up and called to Bokuto.

“Bo, I think it’s time to head back.”

“What? But we haven’t even seen everything!” Bokuto started before spotting Kozume on the bench. He features softened, it took Akaashi aback. It was very rare to see Bokuto so raw.

“Ah, actually, it’s okay. I’m sure it'll be here the rest of the weekend,” he flashed a grin at Akaashi, back to his same old, excitable self, before turning in the complete opposite direction they had been heading in.

Kuroo and Bokuto paired up in the front, leaving Akaashi to walk alongside an exhausted Kozume. He looked half asleep.

“You okay, Kozume-san?” Akaashi asked.

“Kenma,” Kozume corrected, looking up at Akaashi, “And yeah, I just get drained really easily from being around a lot of people.”

_Kenma._

Akaashi looked at Bokuto and Kuroo, their fingers interlaced and swinging between them. Bokuto leant his head onto Kuroo’s shoulder.

“I feel the same sometimes,” he admitted.

Kozume (Kenma, he corrected himself) looked surprised at this. But if he was, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he asked, “Are you performing again soon, Akaashi-kun?”

“Just Akaashi's okay. And yes, tomorrow night at around seven.”

“Same place?”

Akaashi nodded.

“Okay,” Kenma said before falling back into silence. This silence was comfortable and Akaashi could feel the bubble surrounding them once again.

“Okay,” Akaashi murmured. He couldn’t help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here onwards I'm not going to update every day, I'm rather going to aim to update once a week, (maybe twice if I manage to push myself) just so I can give myself more time to write these next chapters properly. I don't want to rush this story because I'm really liking it so far and for what I have planned I need to take the time to process everything. 
> 
> Long story short: I should be able to update tomorrow and from then onwards it will be once a week on Fridays


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma watches Akaashi perform.

Kenma woke to the sound of nothing. It was blissful.

He whispered his thanks that he didn’t have a class today, rolling over and snuggling further into his covers. He took his time waking up, not feeling the need to rush. He stayed in bed for another twenty minutes or so, falling in and out of consciousness.

His stomach growled.

Kenma sighed, trying to ignore the ache in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten much the night before besides that slice of apple pie. He should have known better than to let Kuroo order for him. Might as well get up and see if the cafeteria had anything to offer.

Reluctantly, Kenma shuffled from under the covers, swinging his legs to the edge of the bed. The floor was cold to the touch. He thought his toes might freeze.

Kenma ran to his chest of drawers, digging in the piles of mismatched clothes until he found a pair of socks. They had cats on them (a Christmas gift from Kuroo, along with a limited edition game Kenma had had his eyes on). Kenma shrugged to himself, not really caring at this point; he just needed warmth.

He slipped on the socks, wiggling his toes in the soft cotton material. The cats stared up at him with a familiar gaze. Their eyes were also golden.

Kenma’s phone dinged. He made his way to his bedside table, yawning without bothering to cover his mouth. There was a reminder on his phone: **Akaashi 19:00**

He’d nearly forgotten. Akaashi’s performance was tonight and Kenma had agreed to go, or, at least, hinted that he would think about it.

Kenma thought back to the night before. The surprise and shock from seeing Akaashi enter the restaurant were too much for words. Akaashi had introduced himself as if they had never met before as if they were perfect strangers. (Technically they were.)

They had talked, but just barely, Kenma unable to meet his eyes.

As the night progressed, however, talking became slightly easier. So did the silence acting as their barrier against the rest of the world. Kenma had never felt that comfortable with someone new before. It had taken years before he allowed Kuroo to so much as give him a hug without warning. Somehow, he sensed Akaashi was perhaps the same, keeping to himself and giving enough space between himself and Kenma as they walked. His face was always calm and neutral, never giving anything away.

Kenma thought back to the first night they had met, the music that still ringed in his ears. He wanted to hear that music again. It was constantly present in his dreams, painting hyper-real pictures of different settings: an orchard of cherry blossom trees, a highway in Tokyo at night, the lights zooming by in streaks of blue, red and yellow. Sometimes Akaashi was with him, violin in hand, other times Kenma just floated from one place to the other.

What should he wear?

Kenma panicked for a moment, ruffling through his drawers to try to find a suitable outfit. He checked the time and found it was already past twelve in the afternoon. Left to his own devices, Kenma could sleep like a rock. It was a miracle he made it to any of his morning classes.

Maybe he could ask Kuroo?

Kenma already had a message typed out, about to hit send when he stopped himself. Kuroo didn’t know. He didn’t know that Kenma already knew Akaashi that he had seen him perform, that he had been the one to recommend the book he was currently obsessed with.

Why hadn’t he told him?

_Because this is your secret._

Was it though?

Kenma shook his head, letting his hair tickle his cheeks. He looked down at his message, reading it over to himself.

Kenma: could you help me find an outfit for tonight?

He bit his lower lip, turning the words over on his tongue. Would Kuroo be hurt that Kenma hadn’t told him? Would he be excited?

He will most definitely be nosey Kenma thought to himself.

His stomach gurgled, interrupting his thoughts.

Kenma decided to exit out of his phone, leaving the message unsent. He’d grab a bite to eat, and then ask Kuroo for help (as well as explain the situation). He couldn’t think on an empty stomach.

 

***

 

It was six thirty and Kenma still hadn’t found anything to wear.

He wasn’t picky when it came to clothes, usually throwing on one of his patterned or plain jerseys (depending on his mood) along with a pair of jeans and sneakers. Simple. The only fancy thing he would consider part of his wardrobe was his make-up, and sometimes he didn’t even bother putting that on.

Tonight he did (he needed the extra boost of confidence). That had been easy enough to decide on. Kenma chose to do his usual routine, keeping his look understated. His hair was a mess but when wasn’t it?

Clothes, he reminded himself, I need clothes…

He didn’t understand; he never really put in any effort when it came to this sort of thing. Since he could remember he has cared about what others thought whilst trying to blend in with the crowd. His clothes reflected that: they didn’t scream, “Look at me!” but neither did they say “I’m sloppy and don’t care what you think.”

Kenma eyed his phone which was lying half-concealed underneath his covers, busy charging. He still hadn’t sent his message to Kuroo. He wished he had.

Kenma turned back to the options he’d laid out on the floor. He decided to throw caution to the wind, picking up a pair of black skinny jeans and a maroon knit sweater. It still smelled new, Kenma having bought it recently. He’d spotted it in the women’s section of one of his favourite clothing stores and had immediately tried it on. It had fit perfectly. It still did.

Kenma took one more glance at himself in the mirror and decided at the last minute to clip his bangs away from his face. Better.

Kenma grabbed what he thought he might need, running through the list in his head.Keys, wallet, phone, glasses. Where were his glasses?

Kenma dug through his backpack, his bedside drawer. He went to his knees and checked under the bed. Nothing.

Always, this always happens. Anyone with glasses would understand. You would always see a pair when you didn’t them, then as soon as you needed them they would disappear in the blink of an eye.

After nearly ten minutes of searching, Kenma was about to give up, already halfway out the door when he spotted his glasses case. It was wedged between his mattress and the bed frame. How he’d managed to misplace them there of all places he didn’t know.

He grabbed his case and popped his glasses on, not even bothering to check his reflection before running out of the door. He flew down the flight of stairs, resulting in his bowling over two other students. He muttered his apologies, escaping out of the front door of the house.

He had wanted to stop by the coffee shop and get a chai latte. The biting cold of the wind only made the idea more appealing. Kenma checked his phone: 18:42. He still had time.

He ran to the coffee shop.

A different person was running the shop tonight, neither Lev nor Yaku to be found behind the counter. Kenma almost thought he was in the wrong place. He checked the sign outside. It was the coffee shop. He was so used to having Lev and Yaku greet him, their bickering filling the early-morning silence of the shop. When did he start to expect that?

Kenma got his order in five minutes flat. It didn’t taste nearly as good as Yaku’s but now wasn’t the time to be fussy.

He had less than fifteen minutes. It usually took ten minutes to walk to the center of the town, an extra five if Kenma was feeling particularly slow. Preparing himself mentally, Kenma broke into another run, precariously balancing his chai latte whilst trying to keep his glasses from falling off.

He hadn’t done anything close to exercise since his volleyball years. He’d carried on with it even after Kuroo had left their high school, but once he’d graduated, Kenma had put his volleyball kit away for good. It had been fun (he still considered his high school team as his family) but it just wasn’t a part of him anymore.

Kenma arrived with two minutes to spare, doubled over and heaving. Akaashi was busy setting up, placing two violin cases down on either side of his amp.

“Ah, Kenma-san,” he said, making his way over to Kenma. “Hello.”

“Hello, Akaashi,” Kenma huffed out between deep breaths.

“Did you run here?” Akaashi asked, mischief in his voice. That was a first.

“Hm,” Kenma said, not caring for subtlety.

“Thank you,” Akaashi whispered.

Kenma looked up, Akaashi’s heavy-lidded gaze meeting his.

“Hm,” Kenma repeated, not knowing what else to say.

“I just need to finish setting up,” Akaashi pointed a thumb over his shoulder, indicating his equipment. “Those glasses suit you,” he stated before turning back to his set up.

Kenma blinked, his breath finally starting to even out. His heart was still thrumming in the back of his throat.

 

***

 

He came, he actually came, Akaashi thought as he tested out the strings on his classical violin. The D string needed a bit of tuning, but otherwise, he was ready to start. He took a steadying breath, spreading his feet a little wider to get a better stance.

He opened his eyes just barely, peaking at Kenma through the slivers. Kenma was drinking something out of a coffee cup and was probably freezing half to death. He wasn’t wearing a jacket.

Akaashi chuckled to himself before placing his bow on the strings, wringing the first notes of Vivaldi’s Presto. It immediately caught the attention of the passersby, people flocking closer to the music. It was always a crowd favourite but that wasn’t why Akaashi chose this piece. He liked the challenge, the fast moving finger work, the precision of the bow. When he’d first started learning this piece he’d snapped the hairs repeatedly.

“Be gentle Akaashi-kun!” his teacher despaired, taking his third broken bow into her hands and running her fingers up and down its spine.

“But how? This piece is so forceful, I have to concentrate so hard–"

“That’s the secret. The harder the piece, the more effortless you have to make it look.” His instructor had placed his bow down on a chair, handing her own bow over to him. Akaashi had hesitated. Using someone else’s bow was like trying to walk in another person’s shoes. Each bow adapted to the unique grip of their player. No two felt exactly alike.

“Go on, I trust you.”

Akaashi took it. It felt as light as a feather.

It still does.

Akaashi took his time on this piece, not wanting to rush it. Although the tempo demanded a fast pace, most violinists took it a step too far. They would rush through the notes, never allowing the sound to breathe but rather going faster, faster, faster until their fingers bruised. Akaashi had also done this until his instructor had said those words. The harder the piece, the more effortless you have to make it look.

He carried that piece of advice around with him to this day.

He’d managed to gather an entire audience of people by now, their faces awestruck. A few had their phones out, taking pictures and videos. Akaashi ignored them. He didn’t understand those who chose to experience life through a lens.

He finished off the piece, elongating the final note. He was met with applause soon after.

He kept his eyes fixed on his strings and waited for the clapping to die down before starting his next piece. Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto in D major. He’d chosen the solo from the first movement, giving a contrast from his first piece. It was medium paced and could still be considered lively. This he didn’t even have to think twice about, he just let the bow move of its own accord, the notes pouring down from the strings and pooling at his feet.

He was met with another round of applause.

He played one more piece before moving on to his electric violin. Just like last time, the audience cried for more, fearing he was already finished.

He looked over his shoulder to find Kenma standing where he’d left him, clutching his now empty coffee cup. He was visibly shaking from the cold.

Akaashi placed his violin down, much to his audience’s dismay. He shrugged off his jacket and walked to Kenma.

“You look cold,” he said, handing his jacket over. Kenma looked at Akaashi as if he’d grown a second head. Akaashi waited, arm outstretched and jacket in hand. Kenma looked nervous all of a sudden. His fingers started to fiddle with the lid of his cup, his bottom lip securing itself between his teeth.

Akaashi should have thought this through. He didn’t fully understand it, but it seemed Kenma didn’t like to be noticed. It was already commendable that he’d willingly stood this long amongst such a large crowd. Akaashi started to withdraw his arm.

Kenma caught at his jacket, his fingers just missing Akaashi’s. He didn’t say anything as he slipped the jacket on. He didn’t need to; his eyes said it all.

Akaashi tried to communicate that he was sorry for making him feel uncomfortable. It didn’t help that a smile was beginning to break through his usual calm front.

He turned and headed back to his violin, checking the sound through the amp and making sure his loop pedal was connected properly.

He met Kenma’s eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Kenma nodded. _Go on._

Akaashi started playing.

 

***

 

Kenma watched as a puff of white smoke escaped his lips. Akaashi’s jacket was so warm. It was too big for him, the shoulders broader than what he was used to.

He eyed the crowd, trying to spot if anyone was staring. One or two people looked his way. A woman smiled at him before turning her attention back to Akaashi. Kenma let his gaze drop to his shoes.

He was biting his lip. It was a bad habit.

Looking up through his eyelashes, Kenma caught Akaashi’s gaze. He was smiling. It was barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. One corner of his mouth was titled vaguely, more a hint of a smile than anything else.

Akaashi started playing. Kenma instantly recognized the song.

It was Secrets, the one that had repeated over and over again in his head until he’d finally been able to give it its name.

Some people in the crowd gasped as Akaashi started to layer the sounds, slapping his flat palm on the strings to create the base.

Kenma found himself whispering the lyrics under his breath. He swayed on his feet to the timing of the song, mirroring Akaashi’s movements.

Akaashi met his gaze again and this time his smile bloomed into something more.

The applause this time around was overwhelming, causing Kenma to startle. Only as the clapping began to taper off did Kenma remember how to clap. (He couldn’t really because of the coffee cup he still had in his hands, but he made do.)

Akaashi played two more songs, using the layering technique to create an entire backtrack before playing the melody. The crowd only got louder and louder towards the end of his final song. People were cheering and whooping by the time Akaashi finished off, sweeping his bow across the strings and emitting one long note all on its own.

People started pushing to the front, surrounding Akaashi and bumping into Kenma. Some waved notes in their hands and others their phones, wanting a picture. Akaashi politely declined both.

“Congratulations,” Kenma murmured once the crowd had thinned, leaving he and Akaashi to stand in the center of the courtyard, alone once again. It was if nothing had happened. _The clock struck twelve and the carriage turned back into a pumpkin._ Or something like that.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said, his breaths coming out in shallow gasps. Sweat dusted his brow and cheeks, decorating him in his hard work.

Kenma felt as if he’d gone back in time. The words were stuck in his throat, unable to escape again. He wanted to say something more; he wanted to comment on how beautifully Akaashi had played. He wanted to thank him for playing Secrets again. He wanted to say how pretty his smile was.

Instead, he offered to help Akaashi to pack up. Akaashi thanked him, handing over his pedal with its immense length of cable to be gathered. Kenma did as he was asked, staying clear of the violins and their cases. That was Akaashi’s territory.

“We can drop this off at my apartment quick and then grab something to eat. If you’d like?” Akaashi asked shyly, hefting the amp by its handle. He’d slung one of his violin cases over his shoulders like a backpack, giving the other case to Kenma to carry along with the pedal. Kenma felt as if he were holding a newborn baby.

He nodded before answering, “I’d like that."

 

***

 

Akaashi’s apartment was far too nice considering he was a supposed to be a university student.

Kenma gaped as he entered, nearly dropping the violin case in his hands.

The entrance was huge, leaking into an even larger sitting room. A kitchen sat off to the left side near the windows along with a small dining table for four. Two doors to the right led to a bedroom and bathroom. The walls were white, the furniture muted shades of blue and light grey. The set up was minimal but stylish.

“Do you rent with anyone?” Kenma found himself asking as he slipped off his shoes to enter the apartment properly.

“No, it’s just me,” Akaashi answered matter-of-factly. "My father insisted on paying for it, even though I can afford it on my own."

Kenma didn't know how to respond. Akaashi's tone had turned jaded at the mention of his father.

“It’s really nice," he finally said.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said quietly, placing his amp down beside his couch. “Do you want a cup of coffee while we’re here?”

“No thanks. I don’t drink coffee.”

Akaashi gave Kenma a sceptical look before opening the door to his bedroom. He slung his violin case off his back and placed it carefully near the entrance. Kenma walked over and did the same, taking the opportunity to peek inside Akaashi’s room. It reflected the set up of the living room, the bare necessities present. A double bed took up the center of the one wall, a desk another. With a tilt of his head, Kenma spotted a floor to ceiling, dark wood bookshelf. Books of all shapes and sizes were stuffed onto the shelves, threatening to topple over any second.

Akaashi reached for the door handle, wanting to close the door. Kenma stood back, listening to the soft click of the lock in its frame.

_I bet his door doesn’t stick._

“Are you hungry for anything specific?” Akaashi asked.

Kenma shook his head. He could go for anything right about now; he just needed something edible.

 

***

 

“That was really nice,” Akaashi said, scuffing the toe of his shoe along the pavement. He and Kenma were heading back to the university. Akaashi had asked if Kenma wanted someone to walk back with. Kenma had said yes.

“Hm,” Kenma said, digging his hands into his jacket pockets. Well, Akaashi’s jacket pockets.

It looked good on him, Akaashi mused.

Akaashi had taken Kenma to a small restaurant just on the corner of his street. It looked like it could have been someone’s house at one point, the dining area consisting of only four small tables. One other couple was there when Akaashi and Kenma had entered. The owner had welcomed them with a broad smile, escorting them to a table. He asked Akaashi how he was and when he got back. Akaashi gave the bare minimum of an answer, peeking at Kenma when he said, “good,” and, “last week.” The owner nodded along and then brought them a menu.

Kenma had gaped at the menu and Akaashi couldn’t help his chuckle. Although it was small, this restaurant had the most amazing array of food Akaashi had ever come across, even in his travels across Europe.

They had eaten until their stomachs couldn’t take anymore, finishing off with a cup of coffee for Akaashi and tea for Kenma.

Now they were walking it all off, nearing the university with every passing minute. Akaashi felt as if the night could go on forever. He wanted it to.

“We’re here,” Kenma stated, stopping near the entrance gate. Akaashi looked past the gate towards the towering buildings of the university. This was an old university town, the school having been built first and the town added on later for the students’ benefit. Akaashi wondered what it would be like to be a normal university student, not having travelled across Europe at the age of nineteen but rather going to campus parties and maybe even continuing with volleyball in his spare time. Somehow, he couldn’t picture it.

“Thank you, Kenma-san, for coming to watch,” Akaashi said, turning to Kenma.

“Thank you for inviting me, Akaashi,” Kenma replied, meeting his eyes. He was wearing his eyeliner tonight. Akaashi didn’t know whether he liked him better with or without the makeup. Perhaps both.

They stood there for what felt like a millennium before Kenma made to enter through the gate. Akaashi stayed where he was, watching Kenma’s retreating form.

Kenma stopped suddenly. He turned to face Akaashi and said something, but Akaashi couldn’t hear.

“Sorry?”

“I said you’re very good at what you do,” Kenma repeated, raising his voice slightly. He turned and carried on towards his dorm room, not stopping to check whether Akaashi had heard.

He’d heard.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma receives a letter from his pen pal and decides to pay a visit to a certain violinist...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I just wanted to say thank you to all those who have been sticking with the story thus far and that I hope you enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> I went through a little stage of writer's block but thankfully I managed to sit down yesterday and finish this. It's a bit of a filler chapter, the next one will be more eventful ;)
> 
> (I'm also thinking of either a New Years or Christmas chapter, depending on how the story takes off from here... Gonna have to wait and see!)

_Hello Kenma!_

_Long time no write, I’m sorry! We’ve been crazy busy preparing for the tournament at the end of the month!_

_Kageyama is working hard, and I am too. Our coach is constantly pushing us until my legs give out and Kageyama’s arms are like wet noodles! I’d find it funnier if I weren’t exhausted every day!_

_How have you been? Are you still taking design even though you don’t like it?_

_I remember Kageyama saying–_

 

Kenma smiled to himself as he re-read Shouyou’s letter. Shouyou wrote the way he talked, adding hand-drawn emoji’s and weird sounds when words wouldn’t suffice.

Kenma had “met” Shouyou through a pen pal program at school. It had been a mandatory project for his second year in elementary school. At first, Kenma had hated the idea. He barely spoke to anyone besides Kuroo, so why should he talk to a complete stranger he’d never even met?

A couple of weeks later Shouyou had sent his first letter.

His handwriting was even worse back then. Slanted and scratchy, Kenma could barely make out the words. He’d had to ask his teacher for help translating the letter into somewhat readable material.

Apparently, Hinata was super excited. Big surprise, he’d never had a pen pal before. He apologised in advance for his handwriting and promised he’d work on it, to make it easier for Kenma to read. The rest of the letter was filled with too many grammatical errors and exclamation marks for Kenma’s liking, but somehow Shouyou had managed to catch his attention. He was so genuine. Kenma had almost doubted he was actually being honest.

Shouyou’s second letter the following week put his doubts to rest.

Shouyou had asked if Kenma was okay because he hadn’t received a reply to his first letter. He even went so far as to re-write his first letter and put it in the envelope as well, in case Kenma hadn’t gotten it the first time round.

That had made Kenma smile.

Finally, after Shouyou’s third letter, filled with worry and sad faces, Kenma had sat down and written a brief note, saying he was okay and that he had received Shouyou’s letters. He tried to explain how meeting new people made him uncomfortable without sounding too weird. Whenever he tried to explain it to other people they would scoff and say he just wasn’t trying hard enough.

Shouyou was different.

He’d written back immediately it seemed because Kenma received a letter two days after he’d sent his own. It was filled with exclamation marks and crudely drawn happy faces, stating that Shouyou was totally fine with taking it slow. He was just happy Kenma had written back. He’d been afraid he’d scared Kenma off.

Kenma had written back, again keeping his letter brief and to the point. Shouyou replied and so on. The year flew by in pages of ink and postage stamps and the two friends decided to continue writing letters after the program was up.

The first time they properly met was actually at a practice match for volleyball in high school, nearly three years after they had first started writing. Kenma had instantly spotted his pen pal. He had known it was Shouyou the moment he saw a full head of orange hair jumping up and down in excitement. Shouyou had explained in detail how he looked so that Kenma could recognise him. Kenma had done the same, albeit with less badly attempted illustrations. When Shouyou had spotted Kenma his eyes had lit up. He'd ran over to Kenma, nearly bowling him over with a hug. Kenma had smiled and returned the embrace, having felt he’d known Shouyou his whole life.

 

_Oh! I just remembered, our coach said we’d be touring around and playing practice matches against some university teams, including yours! So maybe we could go out after the match? If you don’t want to, don’t worry, I’ll understand :)_

 

This last part was squeezed onto the bottom section of the final page. Kenma had to squint so he could read it. He traced the smiley face with his finger before placing the letter to one side and picking up a pen to write his own.

He started off saying he’d like to see Shouyou and that he wanted to take him to a little restaurant he’d recently been to. He was about to start a new paragraph explaining his night out with Akaashi when he stopped himself.

Should he tell Shouyou when he hadn’t even told Kuroo yet?

Kenma didn’t know why, but it felt like a secret that only he knew about, this… whatever it was he was doing with Akaashi. He did not want to use the word friendship just yet, it didn't feel right.

It had been a month since he’d started his second year at the university. Kenma filled his days with schoolwork and regular visits to the campus coffee shop. By now Lev had advanced to working with the coffee machine, under Yaku’s strict supervision. He’d even managed to make a half-decent chai latte for Kenma the other day.

Kenma also made frequent stops at the second-hand bookstore on Tuesdays.

Having finished The Night Circus (twice) he’d gone to Akaashi asking for another recommendation. Along with having to give back his jacket, it was a good excuse to see the violinist. Akaashi was more than willing to give more recommendations, letting Kenma borrow books from the store. They spent their afternoons talking about said books and debating whether tea or coffee was better, sometimes even talking about Kuroo and Bokuto's antics. It had become a part of Kenma’s routine, and he liked it.

Kenma went to nearly all of Akaashi’s performances, making up excuses when Kuroo asked if he wanted to join him and Bokuto for a night out.

He still hadn’t told Kuroo about how he’d met Akaashi.

Kenma stared at his half-written letter, pen in hand. He touched the nib to the page, a small blot of ink seeping into the paper.

He wrote everything. How seeing Boktuo and Kuroo together had made him anxious, how he’d walked alone in the town until he’d heard Akaashi’s music, how he’d met Akaashi the next day at the bookstore. How Akaashi had recommended his new favourite book and how Kenma couldn’t put it down. The coincidence of Akaashi being Bokuto’s friend, Kenma watching (and nearly being late for) another of Akaashi’s performances. The jacket, the restaurant, the walking, the comfort he'd felt in Akaashi's presence. All of it. He wrote and wrote until he’d filled nearly five pages, black ink spreading from one side of the page to the other.

He was a little out of breath after all of that.

He read through his letter, double-checking his grammar and punctuation. There were one or two mistakes near the end when his hand was moving of its own accord. He fixed them before folding the pages and sealing them in an envelope to be mailed later when he got the chance.

He was supposed to be working on his literature and design projects today, seeing as he didn’t have any classes to attend, but he just didn’t have the energy.

He could go for a cup of tea, though.

 

***

 

Yaku looked like he was about to kick something, or rather someone, when Kenma entered the coffee shop.

“I’m going to ask one more time, Baka-Lev. What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Lev whined. He was shaking from head to toe, his eyes darting around the room to look anywhere but at Yaku.

“I know you did something because this,” Yaku indicated something in his hand, “is not a removable part.” Yaku’s voice was steady, almost scarily calm compared to his usual outbursts. Kenma was reconsidering his need of a cup of tea when Lev spotted him.

“Ah! Kenma! Help me, please! Tell him I didn’t do it!”

Kenma sighed. He was going to be here a while.

“What did he do?” Kenma asked, ignoring Lev’s squawk of indignation and turning his attention to a still-fuming Yaku. He looked like a bomb that was about to go off.

Yaku said nothing, but rather chucked a piece of metal onto the counter. He crossed his arms and glared up at Lev. Lev visibly shrunk.

Kenma walked over to take a closer inspection. He recognised the metal rod as being what was usually used to make foam. Kenma peeked at the coffee machine to the right of the counter and, sure enough, the rod was missing. It looked as if it had been ripped off, leaving a gaping black hole where the tube should have been.

Kenma turned his gaze to Lev, meeting his eyes for the first time.

“How did it happen?”

Lev met Kenma's gaze and froze. He gulped, his shoulders pinching higher until his neck disappeared entirely.

He spilled everything.

“Okay, so Yaku was running late and there were no customers so I decided to put some of my music on through the loud speakers and I may or not have wanted to practice making coffee on my own so I tried to make Kenma’s order and my favourite, favourite song came on and, well, I can’t not sing to my favourite song, right? So I was singing and I got really into the song and I don’t know how but there was a wet spot near the coffee machine and when I started dancing I was busy with Kenma’s foam and –” Lev gasped for breath. “I slipped and grabbed the first thing I could...” he finished off weakly, all the excitement from re-telling his tale gone in an instant. He ducked his head and bowed low.

“I’m sorry Yaku-senpai, please forgive me.”

Yaku had his arms crossed, the tip of his index finger touching his bottom lip. He looked deep in thought.

Lev remained in his stooped position, peeking up at Yaku through his bangs.

Yaku took a deep breath before addressing Lev. “You have to promise never, and I mean never, to use the coffee machine without my permission again. Plus, you’ll be doing cleaning duty for the next two weeks.”

Lev shot up, his mouth parted in surprise.

“So I’m not fired?”

“No. That's if you behave,” Yaku said, his mouth tipping into a cheeky grin.

“I will! I promise Yaku-sensei!” Lev bowed once again.

“Alright, alright. Just clean this mess up, baka,” Yaku said, waving his hand in dismissal.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Lev saluted before heading to the back room for the cleaning supplies.

"And Lev," Lev stopped and turned to face Yaku. "If you ever lie to me again, being fired will be the least of your worries," Yaku said, all humour gone.

Lev nodded gravely before disappearing into the back room.

He’ll have his work cut out for him, Kenma thought, as he shared a look with Yaku.

“Will you have to buy a new machine?” he asked, out of curiosity.

“Yeah, but I’ve been looking for an excuse to haggle our manager into getting a new one, so it’s sort of a win-win situation.”

Lev stormed out of the backroom with a look of a determination, a bucket in one hand and a mop in the other.

Kenma hummed, smiling to himself.

 

***

 

Akaashi took a deep breath before stepping up on the ladder. He’d been happy when he’d heard a job was available at the bookstore; he couldn’t have asked for anything closer to home. The job had its perks. He was constantly surrounded by new reading material, there was enough of a lull between customers to give him time to read said material, and the hours weren’t too bad either. It also gave him time to practice the violin without pushing himself to exhaustion. The only set back was the packing.

Whenever new books came in from donations, Akaashi would have to order them alphabetically in their separate genres. That meant putting the books on the shelves, which meant sometimes using a ladder.

Akaashi was afraid of heights. Or, to be more specific, he was afraid of falling.

He shelved the pile of books in his arms as quickly as possible. The sooner he got this done, the sooner he could climb down and get back to reading his new book.

It was considered a literary classic, and Akaashi could see why. Takekurabe was raw and honest. Akaashi could hardly put it down. He’d never experienced what the children in the novel had, having grown up in a privileged home, and yet the way the writer portrayed the character’s loss of childhood for the betterment of her family… It had settled somewhere deep in Akaashi’s heart, and he didn’t want to dislodge it just yet.

He stacked the final book and nearly jumped down in his rush to get to the floor. It was too high, though.

Slowly, he walked down one step, and then another, until his feet touched the ground. He let out the breath he’d been holding in.

The bell rang as the door opened. Akaashi peeked out from behind the bookshelf, spotting Kenma at the door. He had two takeaway cups in his hands.

Akaashi had not expected to see Kenma again after his first performance and yet, by some coincidence or play of fate, the next day the man had walked in through the front door of the store, searching for books like any other customer. The way his fingers had brushed the spines of the books, Akaashi could tell he was an avid reader.

He’d wanted to ask the man his name then and there but he couldn’t bring himself to break the comfortable silence. Nothing could replace the sound of an empty bookstore.

He'd watched, the book in his hands long forgotten, as the man continued to browse the store. He seemed to know his way around. Perhaps this was also his secret place?

Finally, Akaashi had decided to break the ice.

“Lost again, I see?”

The man had frozen, turning to meet Akaashi's gaze with his own. Gold met green

From there it was a whirlwind of coincidences and shy talking about books and coffee and sometimes not talking at all. It was very rare for Akaashi to feel comfortable in a stranger’s presence, and yet whenever Kenma walked through the door or came to see one of his performances, a sense of calm would envelop him, wrap him up in a warmth he thought only music could provide.

_Kenma-san is like walking music_ , Akaashi mused to himself. He greeted Kenma.

Kenma started and then met Akaashi’s eyes. His shoulders immediately dropped, losing their tension. He swayed as if he were a bamboo rod in the wind, takeaway cups secured tightly in his gloved hands.

Akaashi walked over to Kenma, wiping his hands on his jeans even though he didn’t need to. He stopped just short of entering Kenma’s bubble. He’d perfected this early on, always managing to sense when Kenma was feeling uncomfortable or in need of space. Kenma said nothing, opting to offer Akaashi one of the takeaway cups instead. Akaashi took it, careful not to let his fingers brush Kenma’s, and took a tentative sip. It was coffee. Black with two sugars, just the way he liked it.

“You remembered,” Akaashi mumbled, more to himself.

Kenma nodded. “Hm. I thought because it’s a bit cold today…” Kenma looked over his shoulder and out of the shop window. Akaashi looked at Kenma.

Kenma's jawline was soft, not really noticeable unless he turned his head at a certain angle.

Akaashi averted his eyes quickly, not wanting to make Kenma feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Kenma took a sip of his own drink in lieu of an answer, not meeting Akaashi’s eye. Kenma’s hair was loose today. Every time he ducked his head his bangs would fall like a curtain across his face. Akaashi smiled into his cup.

They stood there, neither saying a word as they enjoyed the warmth of the shop and their respected drinks. Akaashi’s gaze would occasionally slip to Kenma, who would either look out the window or down at his shoes. His eyes seemed to follow the last of the autumn leaves falling from their perches. Soon, it would be winter break for the university students.

Having finished his drink first, Kenma walked around the store. Like always, he brushed his fingers along the spines of the books. Akaashi drained his cup, abstaining from using his finger to swipe up the dregs of sugar from the bottom of the cup.

He walked up behind Kenma to offer to throw his cup away. He reached out, his hand brushing Kenma's sleeve. Kenma flinched and Akaashi chastised himself. He should have made his presence known.

“Sorry,” Akaashi said, ducking his head. “Do you want me to throw that away for you?” He indicated Kenma’s empty cup.

Kenma handed it over, golden eyes flashing with something indiscernible. Akaashi had not known him long, but he was beginning to learn Kenma’s little cues. How his nose would scrunch when he was irritated, how he’d duck his head when he was embarrassed or didn’t want to be noticed, game console in hand. But this was new, this uncertainty in Kenma’s eyes.

Akaashi threw Kenma’s cup away in the bin underneath the checkout counter - which was really just an old writing desk - and took his usual seat. Kenma followed after a while; standing on the opposite side of the counter, hands in pockets. He’d removed his gloves, revealing the pale skin of his hands. They were small, delicate.

He could have been a musician, Akaashi thought to himself.

“Are you performing tonight?” Kenma asked, breaking the hush that had taken over the shop. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“I was going to, but the weather might have other plans,” Akaashi said, looking out of the window once again. The wind wasn’t too bad, but clouds were beginning to gather and, from Akaashi’s experience, that either meant rain or sleet.

“Are you in need of another book?” Akaashi asked, hoping to keep the conversation going. Kenma shook his head. “Not yet, I’m still trying to finish that last book you gave me.”

“Are you enjoying it? I know it doesn’t suit everyone’s taste, so you don’t have to force yourself through it.”

“No, no, I like it. I’m just a slow reader when it comes to classics.”

Akaashi was the complete opposite. As long as he liked the story, he was willing to push himself to read the book. Sometimes, while he was still travelling and had days off, he would sit and read through two or three books a day.

“If I did perform tonight, would you be willing to brave the storm and come watch?” Akaashi asked, the words slipping out before he could think better of it.

Kenma tilted his head, hair falling across his face. His gaze was still intense, even with only one visible eye.

“Depends, Akaashi-kun. Could I borrow that jacket of yours again?”

Akaashi was taken aback. Was Kenma teasing?

“Well, as long as I get it back, Kenma-san,” Akaashi offered, grinning despite himself.

Kenma returned the smile, brushing the hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ear.

Akaashi felt something jump in his stomach.

“I was hoping to keep it this time round. But if those are the conditions.” Kenma shrugged. He turned back to the shelf of books and pretended to glance at the titles.

Akaashi’s stomach flipped again.

_Stop it._

“We’ll see,” he said, not knowing what else to say.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining. Kenma is a wet cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided I'm going to write a New Years themed chapter rather than a Christmas one and will, hopefully, post it on January first! 
> 
> There's going to be another chapter up on Friday before then, though, because Kuroo and Kenma need to talk some things out... 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this early chapter, I couldn't not write it because I left the last one on a bit of a cliffhanger. Merry Christmas!

"Well that didn't really go according to plan," Akaashi huffed as he lugged his amp up the stairs. His hair was dripping all over the stairwell. Kenma stepped over a puddle, not wanting to slip down the stairs. He was shivering from head to toe, drenched. He’d been wearing Akaashi’s jacket again until the rain had started. Akaashi had asked if he could use it to protect his amp from getting wet. Kenma hadn’t even thought twice before handing it over. He regretted it only slightly.

Akaashi had decided to perform tonight, even though the weather didn't look as if it would clear up anytime soon. Kenma hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want to be rude and Akaashi had seemed sure that it wouldn’t rain. Kenma could hear the sound of water splashing on the roof, the rain mocking them for even considering that.

"Hm," Kenma muttered now, gripping the handle of the violin case in his hands. Akaashi had entrusted him with it like he did every time Kenma helped him pack away (which was almost always). He was still nervous about holding onto such a valuable, and most likely expensive, possession. It didn't help that they had to run in the rain all the way to Akaashi's apartment complex, Kenma nearly dropping the case, along with the loop pedal, multiple times.

Akaashi turned and gave Kenma an apologetic smile over his shoulder. Kenma averted his eyes. Sometimes he could meet Akaashi's forest-green gaze, other times it was still too intense.

They made it to the top of the stairs, Kenma breathing heavily from all of the unnecessary exercise. Akaashi looked as if he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Akaashi stopped in front of his door, placing his amp down so he could get out his keys. The door swung open with ease. Akaashi flicked his head, indicating for Kenma to enter first. After a moment of hesitation, he did.

He slipped off his shoes and stepped up onto the landing, making his way to Akaashi's room to drop off the violin case.

"You can leave that one in the lounge," Akaashi said, appearing behind him.

Kenma stopped midway to the bedroom, not really knowing what to do.

"Here," Akaashi took the case, from Kenma, their fingers barely brushing. It sent shivers down Kenma's spine.

"You still cold?" Akaashi asked, after packing away his equipment, along with the loop pedal Kenma had forgotten he still had and hanging up his jacket. He laid one of his violin cases on the coffee table before walking to a cupboard between the bathroom and bedroom door. He took out two towels and handed one to Kenma, who took it gratefully.

Kenma's teeth chattered. He'd made sure to dress warmly tonight, having learned from his mistake the second time he’d watched Akaashi, but that didn't really help now that he was soaked through.

"Would you like to use the shower? You can warm up and wait for the rain to clear?" Akaashi suggested his voice slightly muffled as he towel-dried his hair. He finished off and tossed the towel in a hamper, his hair standing up at all different angles. It was no longer dripping.

"I - uh, it's okay. I'll be fine," Kenma muttered. He felt his cheeks flush.

"It's okay, I don't mind," Akaashi said. It wasn't a hidden command, but rather a soft-spoken suggestion, letting Kenma make the decision. Akaashi was being candid on his offer.

Kenma nodded, unable to speak through the chattering of his teeth.

Akaashi chuckled before opening the bathroom door. "I'll get you a change of clothes and another towel quick. We can put your clothes in the dryer once you're done if you'd like?"

Kenma nodded again.

Akaashi smiled.

A few minutes later, Kenma was in the shower, scolding hot water dripping down his back. His muscles began to loosen up, his teeth no longer clacking.

He kept his shower short, not wanting to make Akaashi wait. Akaashi must have been freezing by now. He was wearing even fewer layers than Kenma, a thin cotton jersey over a button down shirt his only protection from the cold. Kenma remembered how Akaashi’s jersey had clung to his body, the navy blue material turning black. Kenma hadn't noticed before how slight Akaashi was, his hips tapering from slender shoulders. He could have been a model of he'd wanted, but somehow Kenma couldn't imagine Akaashi without a violin in his hand.

He switched the showerhead off, the cold air immediately settling on his skin and causing ice to pump through his veins. He dried himself off with a towel before getting dressed. Akaashi had given him an oversized shirt and sweater, along with sweatpants and a clean pair of boxers. Kenma's cheeks flushed again.

After towel-drying his hair, Kenma gathered his wet clothes and unlocked the bathroom door, nudging it just slightly. The door creaked open, unveiling a still-wet Akaashi sitting on the couch, a mug of coffee in hand.

Kenma cleared his throat.

"I'm done, if you'd like to -" he tapered off as he looked, really looked at Akaashi. He'd shed off his jersey, leaving only his thin white button-down shirt and jeans on. His feet were bare, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal goosebumps on his forearms. He was shivering.

“I'm sorry I took so long,” Kenma muttered, bowing his head in apology.

Akaashi placed his mug down alongside his violin case. “Don't worry about it, honestly. I once got stuck in a snowstorm in Russia. This is like a sauna in comparison.”

Kenma wasn't convinced but said nothing more on the subject. He shuffled away from the bathroom, making his way to the lounge area. There was another mug on the coffee table.

"Ah, I made you a cup of tea. Thought it might help."

Kenma stared at the mug, watching as the steam rose and curled in the air, disappearing in a blink of an eye. It was mesmerising, something he’d always found fascinating even as a child.

"You don't have to drink it if you don't want it, though," Akaashi added in reassurance.

Kenma shook his head. "No, I appreciate it. Thank you." He transferred the bundle of clothes in his arms to one hand and reached for the mug. He cradled it to his chest, took a sip. It was perfect.

"You remembered," Kenma said, repeating Akaashi's words from earlier that day.

Akaashi's cheeks tinted pink.

"Let me take that for you. I'll put it in the dryer," Akaashi said, tentatively taking the pile of wet clothes from Kenma.

"Uh, are you sure?" Kenma asked, feeling awkward just standing there.

"Yeah, I need to put my clothes in as well anyway," Akaashi answered as he walked into the kitchen. He opened the door of the dryer with his foot, placing Kenma's clothes in carefully before shutting the door with his foot again. He did it with such ease; Kenma figured it was probably routine.

"I'm just going to –" Akaashi pointed towards the bathroom.

"Hm," Kenma said, still standing in the centre of the room. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet a little, not knowing what else to do.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll be quick," Akaashi added before picking up a pile of dry clothes and a towel from the couch, heading to the bathroom. He closed the door quietly behind him. Kenma heard the shower switch on.

Kenma looked around, feeling accustomed to the small space. By now he knew the general layout of Akaashi's apartment. The muted greys and blues of the couches were familiar, the pillows soft. One time Kenma had dozed off whilst Akaashi had been making a pot of tea, the couch cushions far too inviting for an overworked and sleep-deprived Kenma. Akaashi had woken him up an hour later, saying that Kenma would miss his curfew if they didn’t start walking soon.

Kenma sunk down where Akaashi had been sitting, his mug of tea still in hand. He sipped on it slowly, trying to make it last.

He looked around the room, eyeing the one painting on the wall opposite him. It was an abstract piece, the kind made to be displayed in a house. Besides the artwork, the walls were bare; no pictures littered any of the surfaces, neither of Akaashi nor of his family or friends. The apartment itself was minimal and unembellished, and yet it still felt like a home.

Kenma’s eyes were drawn to the violin case on the coffee table. It was a plain black case, nothing extraordinary about it. And yet what it contained had the potential to create flowing melodies and lullabies. Just with the sweeping of his bow, the right placement of his fingers, Akaashi painted pictures with sound.

The shower stopped.

Kenma rightened himself, feeling like a kid caught drawing on the walls.

Akaashi stepped out of the bathroom, towelling his hair once again. He was dressed in a loose grey T-shirt and long pajama bottoms. Kenma could see the water droplets that littered his cheeks like freckles, some turning his eyelashes into stars.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Akaashi said, walking to the kitchen to dump his clothes in the dryer. He did the same routine: opened the door with his foot, placed the clothes in carefully, closed the door with his foot.

“It’s okay,” Kenma said. He was still cradling the mug to his chest. It was empty, the warmth long gone.

Akaashi’s eyes faded away for a moment as if he were in thought. Then, he was back again and heading towards Kenma. He passed him, walking around to the opposite side of the coffee table. He kneeled, his hands sitting firmly in his lap.

“I was thinking because I didn’t get to perform, that I could maybe play something now,” he whispered, the words barely audible. Kenma placed his mug down on the coffee table, anything to keep his hands occupied. He hadn’t brought a game console; he’d felt he wouldn’t need it. He didn't whenever he was with Akaashi.

“I’d like that,” Kenma murmured, the words escaping on a sigh.

Akaashi paused a moment, perhaps again lost in thought, then nodded. His lips curved as he unzipped his violin case. He picked up his classical violin carefully as if it were made of glass. It reminded Kenma of an outing he’d went on when he was still in elementary school. His class had visited a confectionary for the day to watch the process of making sweets and gift baskets. One of the confectioners had shown them how they made spun sugar. Sugar was melted and whisked until it turned a golden brown, then, with two forks held in his hand, the confectioner had waved the dripping sugar over a bowl, creating spider webs out of thin air. He’d gathered the webs so delicately as if one wrong move and they would fall apart completely. That was how Akaashi treated his violin: with care and consideration.

His picked up his bow, his smile broadening just slightly. He swiped the horsehair across the strings, checking to see if it was still in tune. It sounded fine to Kenma but apparently to Akaashi something needed tweaking. He turned one of the pegs at the end of the neck and then swiped his bow across the strings once again. It sounded exactly the same to Kenma, but Akaashi seemed satisfied.

Akaashi got up slowly and padded to the centre of the room, away from the groupings of furniture. His bare feet barely made a sound on the hardwood floor.

“This is… It’s not finished and I’m still uncertain about some parts but –” Akaashi peeked at Kenma who returned the look. He nodded his head, indicating for Akaashi to continue.

_It’s okay, I won’t judge you._

“I thought it was time for someone else to hear it,” Akaashi said, before placing the violin on his left shoulder.

He widened his stance and squared his shoulders, puffing his chest out just a little. Kenma’s lips twitched.

Akaashi didn’t seem to notice, his eyes closed shut for a moment as he took a deep breath. He always did this before he started to perform. Kenma had never asked why because he didn’t want to impose on Akaashi’s inner workings. However, a small part of him couldn’t help but think that perhaps even someone as skilled as Akaashi got stage fright every once in a while.

Akaashi rested his bow on the strings, fingers set in their first position. He started playing.

It was different from what Kenma was used to hearing whenever Akaashi played his classical violin. Usually, he did all of the famous pieces Kenma probably should know the names of but didn’t. This piece sounded different though as if all of those songs had been amalgamated and altered to create something new: something spectacularly unique.

It started off slow, long languid notes pouring to the floor. Kenma swayed with the music, his eyes becoming heavy-lidded. He wasn’t tired, just calm. He felt like all of the noise of the outside world, the sounds that made his head fuzzy and knees buckle, the ones that made him want to shrink and vanish were slowly ebbing away, pushed to the side by Akaashi’s music.

Suddenly, Akaashi paused; bow raised an inch above the strings.

Kenma held his breath.

Akaashi struck down on the strings, his fingers moving at lightning speed. It was the same melody yet it wasn't. Kenma could hear bits of the first part in there but it was layered with other, more complex sounds that he didn’t even realise could be made with a violin. It reminded Kenma of what Akaashi did with his electric violin and loop pedal, how he layered tune over tune to create one song. And yet he was accomplishing this with his classical violin.

It felt like magic and reality were butting heads.

Music poured down in heavy streams, filling the room up slowly with sharp notes and squeaking strings.

Just as Akaashi seemed to be heading towards a climax, he stopped, his right hand dropping to his side, the bow still secured firmly in his grip.

He was breathing deeply, his cheeks flushed. Kenma noticed a line across the left side of his face where the chinrest had been. He wanted to run his fingers along it.

Akaashi said nothing as he sat down once again across from Kenma, his violin resting in his lap.

Kenma didn’t know where to begin.

“I know it’s sort of rough," Akaashi said, filling the silence. "But I’m hoping to keep it fresh." His breathing was slowing down, his chest no longer rising and falling in heavy breaths. Still, Kenma didn't say anything. “I love classical music," Akaashi said, quiet, almost to himself. "The precision, and skill required to play it, but at the same time, there’s something so alluring about contemporary music. It’s freedom and rawness...” He tapered off. He bit his lip. Neither man said anything.

Hesitantly, Akaashi began to pluck at the strings, creating a quiet tune. It jiggled at the back of Kenma’s mind.

“I wanted to try and bring the two worlds together. But I also want to put bit of myself in there, somewhere. That's the part I'm still struggling with,” Akaashi said, his fingers still plucking at the strings.

The sound was familiar, bringing back memories of Kenma’s childhood. On the nights he couldn’t sleep it was because he over thinking about something stupid he’d done that day, how he could have fixed it but didn’t. His mind would refuse to switch off. He’d kick off his covers and knock gently on his mother’s door, asking if he could come in. She would always reply, “Of course, Dārin.” Darling. A nickname only his mother was allowed to use. He would climb onto her futon, share her pillow and ask if she would sing. She would smile softly, her dark hair splayed across her side of the pillow, and nod. “Anything for you, Itoshī anata.” My darling.

The words brushed the back of Kenma's mind, tickling his memory.

 

_Nennen korori yo, Okorori yo._  
Bōya wa yoi ko da, Nenne shina.  
Bōya no omori wa, Dojo e itta?  
Ano yama koete, Sato e itta. 

 

It was an old lullaby, one that would always assure Kenma a good night’s sleep. Even during high school, his mom would sing the song if he was having a particularly bad night.

“My mother sang this,” Kenma whispered, not wanting to interrupt Akaashi’s playing.

Akaashi’s smile was sad when he said, “So did mine.”

He finished off the last of the lullaby, his lips moving silently, mouthing the lyrics.

 

_Sato no miyage ni, Nani morotta?  
Denden taiko ni, Shō no fue._

 

“It was beautiful,” Kenma finally said. “Your song. I – I don’t know what exactly I felt but, it was different from what I usually do when I listen to you play.”

Kenma could feel Akaashi’s eyes on him. He lifted his head, willing himself to make eye contact. Akaashi’s keen green eyes were focused solely on him. A question was posed but Kenma couldn’t read what Akaashi was trying to ask.

The question was swept to the side, replaced with a soft crinkle to the corners of Akaashi’s eyes.

“I’m glad,” he said.

 

***

 

“I don’t think this rain is going to let up anytime soon,” Akaashi said, drying his bowl and putting it back on its respective shelf.

He’d scrounged around in his fridge and had managed to make a meagre supper for himself and Kenma, seeing as they couldn’t go to the restaurant they usually frequented after Akaashi’s performances.

Kenma’s stomach had growled when Akaashi had set the bowl of ramen down in front of him, noodles and broth threatening to spill over the rim of the bowl.

Akaashi had covered his mouth with his hand, trying to muffle his chuckle. Kenma had glared at him, obviously hearing it loud and clear. His nose had scrunched and everything. Akaashi had only shaken his head, letting the last of his laughter escape before digging into his own bowl of ramen.

“If I run I shouldn’t get too wet,” Kenma said. He had another mug of tea in hand and was leaning towards the window, elbows resting on the sill.

“It’s a long run,” Akaashi said, drying his hands on the dishtowel and hanging it up on its hook near the sink.

“The rain will be motivation,” Kenma said. “I don’t want to intrude,” he added as an afterthought, speaking into his mug before taking a sip.

“I don’t mind," Akaashi said. "I do have a spare futon. And I can’t let you go out in this weather alone.” He tried to keep his tone light, not wanting to push Kenma to do something he didn’t want to do.

Kenma considered this a moment, taking another sip of his tea and watching raindrops race down the windowpane. Akaashi did this as well, standing a little ways away. His fingers tangled together, a bad habit when he was nervous or didn’t know what else to do.

“I’ll have to wake up early to make it to class on time. I’ll try not disturb you,” Kenma said, draining his cup before taking it to the sink.

“I’m usually up quite early so if you need anything, let me know.”

With that, Akaashi went to his room and got the spare futon out from under his bed. He contemplated where he should place it. There wasn’t really room on his bedroom floor but putting it in the lounge felt as if he were being rude, placing Kenma in the corner like a stray dog.

Kenma popped his head through the doorway then, asking if he could sleep on the couch. “It’s quite comfy,” he murmured averting his eyes.

Akaashi sighed with relief. Problem solved.

He gave Kenma the extra set of covers he had stored in his cupboard, along with one of his pillows.

Kenma bowed his head in thanks, his wet hair falling across his eyes. Akaashi wanted to tuck the strands behind Kenma’s ear.

His stomach flipped.

He pushed the feeling down, down, down and instead said a soft, “Good night,” leaning against the doorframe and making sure Kenma was, in fact, okay with sleeping on the couch.

Kenma smirked, stating, “The last time I fell asleep you interrupted my nap. Thought I might as well get my money’s worth.”

Akaashi’s lips quirked. Who knew Kenma could be so sassy?

“Alright,” he said, ducking his head, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Kenma whispered, his eyes already drooping shut.

Akaashi switched off the overhead light before closing his door with a soft a click. Padding over to his bed, he tried his best not to make too much noise.

He was quiet by habit, his father not liking to be disturbed when he was in his office back at home. The only exception had been when Akaashi would practice the violin.

Akaashi slid under his covers, pushing away the memories encroaching on him now. He needed sleep. He had an early shift at the bookstore tomorrow and he was hoping to at least be able to say goodbye to Kenma in the morning.

The thought made his stomach topple and churn like it did before his performances. Nervousness, but unlike his stage fright, it was the good kind. The kind that made an appearance before something exciting was about to happen.

That thought was the last to cross Akaashi’s mind as he sunk into sleep, his mother’s lullaby echoing in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the lullaby here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DrsS70Punc
> 
> (And I'm sorry if my Japanese is wrong, if anyone has any corrections please let me know!)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi talks about his travels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! 
> 
> So, early update because I realized I actually needed to split these two chapters up. It just makes a little more sense flow/story wise. I will be updating tomorrow with Kuroo and Kenma's coffee chat... I wonder what Kuroo needs to talk about? (o''o)
> 
> I will also try to write a New Years chapter and, hopefully, post it on January first because I feel like celebrating the end of this year with a bang! 
> 
> Also, thank you for all of the amazing comments and kudos these last few days, they honestly mean so so much!
> 
> Hope you enjoy x

Kenma woke to the smell of eggs and coffee.

He grumbled under his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, mentally preparing himself for an onslaught of sunlight. 

It didn’t come. 

Kenma peeped at the window. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, keeping any offending sunlight out and far away from Kenma. 

_Good._

Checking his phone, Kenma read that it was just after seven o’clock. He had a message from Kuroo. Swiping the notification to the side, Kenma left it to be read later. He could sleep for another half hour before he needed to get ready for class so, he snuggled back into his pillow, inhaling the scent. It smelled like cinnamon.

His pillows didn't smell like cinnamon.

He sniffed again. Cinnamon, it was definitely cinnamon. 

He smooshed his face into the pillow to be met with a soft crinkling of the linen covering. It didn’t feel like it usually did, it was too soft; Kenma’s pillow was stiff. Blue entered his field of vision out of the corner of his eye. He sat up and looked at his surroundings, really _looked._ White walls, grey and blue couches, coffee table with a violin case.

He was still in Akaashi’s apartment. 

Kenma kicked the covers away and swung his legs around, knocking his shin on the coffee table in the process. 

Kenma would have muttered a curse under his breath but he didn’t have the energy.

The living room opened up into the kitchen, no walls separating the two rooms. Squinting his eyes, Kenma could make out an Akaashi-like blur behind the stove of the kitchen. He put on his glasses that he’d left on the coffee table. His vision instantly cleared. Better. 

Limping slightly, he made his way to the kitchen, letting his nose guide him. 

As Kenma came closer, he could make out the finer details of Akaashi better. He was already dressed for the day, wearing a thin long-sleeved T-shirt that clung to his shoulders and waist, a pair of faded jeans slung low on his hips. His hair was damp and curling from a shower.

Spatula in hand, Akaashi flipped over an omelette. There was another cooling down on a plate alongside two mugs: one with coffee, the other tea. 

Akaashi glanced over his shoulder as Kenma approached. 

“Good morning, Kenma-san,” he said, turning back to his task.

“Morning,” Kenma mumbled, wrinkling his nose as the smell of egg invaded his senses. He didn't mind eating it, he just hated the smell. 

He eyed the mug of tea to distract himself, hand hovering by the handle. He didn’t know if it would be rude or not to just grab it and drink it in one go. 

“It’s yours if you want it,” Akaashi said, turning off the stove and plating up the second omelette. “I didn’t know what you would like for breakfast, so I made a guess. I don't mind making something else if you'd prefer?” Akaashi got out two sets of knives and forks, cutting a large piece of his omelette and shoving it into his mouth. Obviously, he was just as hungry as Kenma was.

Kenma took the plate gratefully along with his cup of tea, trying not to slurp it down in his eagerness. 

“It perfect. Thank you for the food,” he said, before digging in.

They ate in a comfortable quiet, their usual bubble surrounding them, separating them from the rest of the waking world. 

Kenma finished in record time, Akaashi not far behind. For such a reserved person, Akaashi ate with gusto. Kenma hid his smile in his tea.

“I can help,” Kenma offered as Akaashi took the dishes to the sink.

“No worries, I’ll leave it for later. We’ve got to get you to the university.”

Oh, right. Kenma had nearly forgotten he had class today. Double lectures in fact.

“I’m guessing you’ll need to grab a few things from your dorm room first?” Akaashi asked, sipping on the last dregs of his coffee. 

Kenma nodded.

“Okay. If you want a shower I suggest you do it now. Do you want a clean set of clothes?”

Kenma hadn’t thought of that either. 

“Uh, if my clothes from last night are dry, then I can just wear those.”

Akaashi nodded in agreement. “I’ll get them ready for you.” He placed his empty mug in the sink and proceeded to open the dryer with his foot. 

Kenma scurried to the bathroom, not knowing what else to do. 

He took the fastest shower known to man, not even bothering to wash his hair. Goosebumps decorated his skin once again when he exited the shower, so Kenma immediately wrapped himself up in a towel. He looked around for his clean clothes to find they weren’t there. 

In his hurry to the bathroom, he’d forgotten to take them from Akaashi. Before he could begin to panic, though, a gentle knocking came from the other side of the door.

“Kenma-san, I’ve left your clothes here by the door. I’m going to grab a jacket quickly.”

Kenma let out a sigh of relief. He waited until he heard the soft padding of footsteps retreat to the other side of the apartment, a soft click his indicator that it was safe to open the door. 

Kenma shot his arm through the crack, grabbing his clothes in record time. He just managed to close the door without slamming it. 

 

***

 

Akaashi resisted the urge to chuckle. 

Kenma had seemed very out of it this morning. Like a cat who'd woken up from his afternoon nap; nose wrinkled, hair standing up at all angles and his glasses askew as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Seemed Kenma wasn’t a morning person. 

Akaashi was by habit, not choice. He’d always had trouble sleeping and even if he did magically fall asleep before midnight, the latest he’d wake up was sometime after seven. Today had not been one of those days. He’d been awake by five thirty already, yawns constantly falling out of his mouth. His shower hadn’t helped much, but the coffee had. 

Now, Akaashi was walking Kenma to the university. They seemed to be doing well for time. Akaashi looked over at Kenma, who was walking with a determination Akaashi had only witnessed when Kenma played a particularly difficult level on his game console. He guessed that Kenma didn’t want to arrive late to his class. It would probably cause unwanted attention. 

“Did you sleep alright?” Akaashi asked, hoping to ease some of Kenma's tension. 

Kenma stopped for a millisecond, his head ducked in thought. Then, just as quickly, he started off again. He physically changed. His stride was calmer, easier, his shoulders no longer pinched to his ears. 

Kenma hummed, his hair falling into his eyes. He was still wearing his glasses, the little circular ones with the thin wire frames. They reminded Akaashi of John Lennon. 

“That’s good to hear,” he said, hoping to keep the conversation going. “I usually struggle to sleep anywhere that isn’t my bed.” Akaashi didn’t know why he said that. He wasn’t one for sharing. 

“Hm,” Kenma said again, but with a different undertone.

_Tell me more?_

Akaashi did.

He explained how even when he was little, he couldn’t sleep or so much as take a nap in the afternoon unless he was exhausted. It just wasn’t possible. He’d driven his parents crazy. He couldn’t sleep in the car for long trips or on the aeroplane throughout his travels. It’s how he’d gotten into reading. It was the closest he could get to daydreaming. 

Kenma listened intently, keeping his eyes fixed on the cobblestone path ahead. He scuffed the toe of his sneakers more than once. 

“Music usually helps as well. It’s what got me to fall asleep when I was younger. My mom would sing me that lullaby I played last night.” At the mention of the song, Kenma’s cheeks pinked. Akaashi hid his smile in his scarf. “When my mom was away at business meetings my dad would put on his classical disks. He didn’t really have the time to stay up with me.” Akaashi finished there, leaving the rest of his thoughts unsaid. 

They walked in silence for a while, the early morning sounds creating a small interlude. Akaashi always wondered if someone could make music with the sounds of nature alone. _The birds could be the brass_ , he thought. The whistling of the trees could be the woodwinds. Perhaps the crunching of the leaves underfoot would be the percussion. But what about the strings? Akaashi couldn’t think of anything that might fit such a specific sound. Perhaps it was irreplaceable. 

“Why did you travel so much?” Kenma asked suddenly, breaking Akaashi’s train of thought. 

“Bokuto didn’t tell you?”

Kenma shook his head. 

Akaashi figured he’d have to talk about this sooner or later. He’d hoped it would later. 

“I was travelling with an orchestra. I played as temporary second violin for the season,” he started slowly, thinking of the words carefully before letting them trickle off of his tongue. “I even got to play first violin one night in Madrid.”

Kenma blinked at Akaashi from behind his glasses, his golden irises enlarged just slightly. He looked inquisitive. Akaashi could almost imagine a tail swishing in curiosity, ears perked with interest. 

“Did you like it?” Kenma asked, hesitant. 

“I did at first. It was an amazing experience. The accommodations were paid for and we were well looked after. Plus we’d get days off to tour around whatever city we were in.” Akaashi’s voice faded, giving way to the autumn wind.

“But?” Kenma supplied after a while. 

“But, at the same time, it was very… restricting. I thought it was what I wanted, to be in a proper classical orchestra but I just –” Akaashi was struggling with his words. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, he would get frustrated. He hated the tight knot of discomfort that would settle in the back of his throat, constricting him from just saying something, anything.

They were still walking, albeit slower. Kenma was no longer watching the path but keeping his gaze on Akaashi. His eyes said, _I’m curious, but I’m willing to wait._ He wasn’t pushing for answers. 

Akaashi continued, “It got tiring after a while. Pieces I’ve admired my whole life, which I’ve worked on for months, or even years became repetitious and confining. I had to physically push myself onto the stage each time we performed. I had to remind myself that I love this, it’s what I’ve always wanted to do. That I was finally seeing my dream fulfilled and yet. I was lying to myself.”

Akaashi had slowed down, hardly walking at all now. Kenma had stopped completely. 

“Is that why you came back?” Kenma asked, a whisper of air. 

Akaashi nodded.

“Is that why you perform in the courtyard?”

Akaashi nodded again. 

They stared at one another, the wind whipping at Kenma’s hair. Akaashi wanted to tuck it behind Kenma’s ears to better see those curious, cautious eyes. He didn’t. 

“I’ve wanted to ask,” Kenma said, his voice soft but steady. “Why don’t you take the money? You perform, people offer money, isn’t that a good sign?”

Akaashi didn't think twice on his response. These words were easier to taste, to let spill. “I like performing for people. I love that I can see their reactions so close. On the stage it's just lights and white noise.” Akaashi started walking again. Kenma followed. 

“But, right now, I’m trying to find my passion again. I want to play for myself. It’s why I started playing more with the electric violin. Its possibilities are infinite. Now I’m trying to mix the two together, my love for classical music along with my new passion for more contemporary pieces. That’s why that piece I played last night was so strange –”

“It’s not strange. It’s just different.”

Akaashi chuckled at that.

“I suppose so.”

“We’re here,” Kenma said, stopping in front of the university gates. 

They were open, some students already visible out on the courtyard, rushing to their first classes of the day. 

“So we are,” Akaashi said, digging his hands into his pockets. 

He was wearing one of his slightly thinner jackets, Kenma using his preferred one again. It looked good on him, a little too big but Kenma didn’t seem to mind. He looked warm as if he were walking with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Thank you, Akaashi, for sheltering me from the rain,” Kenma said, inclining his head in a slight bow. "And for the music," he added as a quiet afterthought.

“Thank you too, Kenma-san,” Akaashi said, returning the bow.

“For what?”

“For listening,” Akaashi said, unwilling to offer more. He checked the time on his phone. It was twenty to eight. 

“You best hurry, you still need to grab your stuff from your dorm room.”

Kenma stuttered, his eyes darting for a moment. 

_I must have caught him off guard._

“Hm,” Kenma nodded, to himself or Akaashi, Akaashi didn’t know. Kenma turned on his heel and, again, with a walk of determination, made his way to his dorm room. 

Akaashi shook his head, a smile breaking across his lips. 

He watched until he could no longer see the bob of Kenma’s half-blonde hair before turning and heading back to the town. He still had some time before his shift at the bookstore, so he could always grab another cup of coffee. 

As he walked he thought about Kenma. His glasses, how his hair obscures his face, how he isn't a morning person. He hoped Kenma would get to his class on time. He worried that his talking might have taken precious time away. But then Akaashi pictured Kenma’s curious gaze, the swishing of his imaginary tail. Of gold melting into green. 

That’s when he realised Kenma still had his jacket. 

_Guess he’ll just have to drop it off at the bookstore sometime,_ Akaashi thought, chuckling to himself.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo and Kenma have tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I just finished this chapter and now I'm really excited to write the New Years chapter, I'm literally bursting with ideas all of a sudden which is a rarity for me...
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Kenma just made it to his class on time, slipping in after his creative writing lecturer. She was young (not much older than her students), with long dark hair that reminded Kenma of his mother’s. Apparently, she’d had a set of short stories published last year, although he’d never heard of them. 

Kenma speed walked to the back of the class, hoping not to draw too much attention to himself. He slid into his seat, took out his computer and immediately plugged his phone in to charge. 

The screen lit up, allowing Kenma to open his phone. He only had that one unread message from Kuroo earlier this morning.

 

**Kuroo: Hey, can we meet for tea later? I want talk about something.**

**Sent 07:07  
Read 08:04**

 

Kenma’s brow furrowed, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Kuroo was rarely this articulate in the morning, let alone so serious. 

 

**Kenma: Sure, campus shop?**

**Sent 08:05  
Read 08:06**

 

**Kuroo: Perfect. See you then.**

**Sent 08:06  
Read 08:06**

 

No emoji. Something was definitely wrong. 

Kenma closed his phone and turned his attention to his lecturer who was speaking, again, about the importance of grammar and how to apply it for their projects that were due next week. 

Kenma’s mind trailed off fairly quickly. It was nothing he didn’t already know. Technically, he hadn’t started the project (it was meant to be a short story of five to ten pages) but whenever he sat down to actually write something "important" would magically come up or need to be done. Kuroo would pop his head in the bedroom doorway or the need for Yaku’s chai latte would overwhelm him. Suffice to say, he was procrastinating. 

Kenma opened up a blank page on his computer, the cursor flashing. He counted it until he got past a hundred, then he lost count because someone’s phone started ringing, so he started again. By the time the lecture was finished he’d made it to two hundred and twenty-six. 

 

***

 

“Kenma!” Kuroo waved an arm as Kenma entered the campus coffee shop, grabbing his attention. 

Kenma switched off his game console. Pocketing it, he slowly made his way to Kuroo, looking for clues as to why Kuroo wanted to talk. 

He had his usual bedhead, a sweater that was just tight enough to show off his slender toning without being inappropriate. Something was off, though. His smile. His smile wasn’t real. It wasn’t the cocky one for public settings, nor was it the smaller, sweeter smile reserved only for Bokuto or Kenma. It was just… there, plastered on his face like one of those cheap halloween masks. 

Kenma sat down in his favourite seat, the one with the pin-striped cushion. 

“Here you go,” one of the staff came suddenly, bearing a tray with a teapot, two cups, and two chocolate muffins. 

“Thanks,” Kuroo said, helping the girl with her load. Once everything was set up the waitress asked if there was anything else they might need. Kuroo politely declined, giving her a flash of his cocky smile. Her cheeks were bright pink as she turned back to the counter. 

Kuroo turned his gaze back to Kenma, the cocky smile gone in an instant. Kuroo's face was set with a seriousness Kenma had only ever experienced once when he’d been admitted to hospital. Long story short, Kenma had knocked into a car because his head was stuck in a new game. It hadn’t been too serious, just a splintered shin (he was actually pretty lucky considering the situation) but Kuroo had still acted as if Kenma only had a month to live. He’d visit the hospital every day after school and before practice, bringing Kenma slices of apple pie when he could. He'd even organised a welcome home party for when Kenma was finally released. It wasn’t big, just Kuroo, Kenma’s mom, and their cat, but it had been special. It was something Kenma still felt indebted to. 

Kenma poured some tea into his cup, nibbling on his chocolate muffin while he waited for his tea to cool. 

Kuroo said nothing. 

After two more minutes of this, Kenma couldn’t stand the awkwardness any longer.

“Kuro, what’s the matter?”

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you,” Kuroo said, taking a sip of his tea. 

“Why?” Kenma asked dumbly. 

“You seem a little distant lately. Like, I know, sometimes you need your space, and that’s totally cool but this past month it seems like whenever I wanna hang out you’ve got something going on and, no offence, but that doesn’t really sound like you.”

_No. No no no, not now. Not now._

“And,” Kuroo sighed, placing his cup down on its saucer, “The last time you were like this was, you know…”

Kenma did know. He knew what Kuroo was getting at and he wanted to stop that trail of thought in its tracks. This wasn't like that. It would never be like that.

“I guess, being me, I’m worried. I don’t want to pressure you into talking but I just want to know if there's something you’re needing help with?”

Kenma wiggled uncomfortably in his seat, the chair feeling very unstable all of a sudden. 

“I –”

_Should I tell him? Will he be mad?_

“I’m –”

_He’ll be mad, but not for long, it’s Kuroo. He’ll understand._

“I’ve been –”

_He’ll understand, right?_

“You’ve?” Kuroo prompted softly, leaning in a little. 

“I’ve been seeing Akaashi a lot lately because he’s… nice,” Kenma blurted.

Kuroo looked taken aback, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. 

_He’s mad he’s mad he’s mad, he’s mad at me, he’s upset, he’s disappointed, I shouldn’t have –_

A sly grin broke out onto Kuroo's face, the real one that made him look like the Cheshire cat. He chuckled to himself, picking up his tea and draining the cup. 

He turned his gaze to Kenma, his attention fully captured. There was a glint of mischievousness in his eye. “Soooo you’re seeing Akaashi?” 

Kenma couldn’t think. He felt as if time had been smashed like a mirror. 

Kuroo was okay with this, he was okay with the fact that Kenma had lied to him for a month and he was going so far as to _tease_ him about it. It was such a Kuroo thing to do. 

“Not like that,” Kenma said finally, breaking off a large chunk of his muffin and popping it into his mouth. He needed to buy time. 

“Like what? What do think I was implying?” Kuroo asked, his smirk broadening. He looked so pleased with himself right now. Kenma’s nose wrinkled. 

“You know what, Kuro. I’m not going to say it.”

“You mean, like, dating?” Kuroo whispered the word as if it were forbidden. 

Kenma felt his hair stand on end.

Kuroo burst out into a cackle, startling the other students in the coffee shop. All eyes were on them. Kenma shrunk in his seat. 

Kuroo managed to calm down enough to take a large bite of his muffin. He swallowed it whole. 

“Kitten, why didn’t you just tell me you liked him?” Kuroo asked.

“I don’t,” Kenma mumbled into his tea. 

“Uh huh, just like how I’m straight?” Kuroo cocked an eyebrow.

Kenma rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not like that. We just… I like speaking to him. And I like his music,” Kenma started. 

“Ohohoho, so that performance we saw the other night wasn’t by accident?” Kuroo asked. 

Kenma could feel his cheeks heat up. He bit his lip. 

Kuroo burst out into another round of cackles, eliciting a few glares from the other patrons. 

“No,” Kenma admitted. There was no point in hiding it. When it came to Kuroo, he could either tell him everything or nothing. There was never an in-between. 

“So, how long have you been seeing him? Not like, _seeing_ him, seeing him, but like, hanging out?” Kuroo asked, teasing aside. 

“We… We actually met before, when you dragged me on your date with Bokuto our first night back. When I left, I heard music and –”

Kuroo’s eyes widened, his mouth gaping slightly. “Wow, so when we met him that Friday –“

“It was the third time I actually saw him.”

“Third time?”

“He works at the bookstore I like,” Kenma said matter-of-factly, easing into the conversation now that Kuroo had stopped his teasing. It felt nice, to be able to finally talk about this, whatever _this_ was. 

"So that's where you've been getting all those books," Kuroo's mouth quirked. 

Kenma nodded, draining his tea and pouring himself another cup. 

They spent the next hour like this, ordering fresh pots of tea when they ran out as well as a second muffin each. Kenma talked the most he had the entire semester, and Kuroo listened, adding in a jibe every once in a while because he was Kuroo. 

“So, you’re friends now?” Kuroo asked, paying the bill for the both of them (against Kenma’s protests) and slipping on his jacket. 

“I guess so. The word doesn’t really feel right, though,” Kenma said, tugging on his jacket – Akaashi’s jacket. He still had Akaashi’s jacket. He’d have to pay a visit to the bookstore soon.

Kuroo held the door open for Kenma. “Like, you guys aren’t that close, or?”

Kenma slipped through the doorway, Kuroo closing the door behind them. The cold air immediately bit at Kenma’s nose. 

“It just doesn’t explain it enough," he said, slowly, trying to make sense of the words. "The word 'friends'… It feels inadequate.” Kenma tried to describe it, both to himself and to Kuroo. He’d never really sat down to think what it was he and Akaashi were to each other. To someone on the outside, they would probably appear as good friends. But that word…

“So, you’re _really_ close with him?” Kuroo prompted.

“For a lack of better words, yes,” Kenma sighed. 

“Hmmm,” Kuroo nodded to himself, finger tapping at his chin. He was thinking, _really_ thinking. That was never a good sign. 

“I’ve got it, let’s spend New Years here!” Kuroo said suddenly.

Kenma was caught off guard. 

“What?”

“You heard me, we’ll go spend Christmas with mom then drive back here on New Year's Eve and have a little party!”

“And by “we” you mean –“

“You, me, Bo and Akaashi,” Kuroo said, a smirk dancing across his lips. 

“No,” Kenma said, speeding up. Akaashi’s jacket was warm but it did nothing for his toes. 

“Oh, come on, Kitten, it’ll be fun!” Kuroo said, jumping in front of Kenma and walking backwards to speak with him.

“That’s what you said about skinny dipping in the campus pond.”

“Hey, that was a good idea!”

“You got caught by security and ended up running all the way across campus to your dorm. Naked.”

Kuroo muttered to himself. Kenma smirked.

“But listen, technically it’s Bo’s idea because he’s staying with Akaashi this Christmas anyway. And we want to do a New Years kiss.”

“I still don’t see how that involves me.”

Kuroo stopped, causing Kenma to bump into his chest. Kenma nearly toppled over, Kuroo grabbing his arm to steady him. He smirked. “I’m the one with the car, remember?” 

Kenma pouted. 

Kuroo was right. He was the one driving them to his mother’s house. He was Kenma’s lift back, unless he wanted to take a ten hour bus drive which they both knew would never happen in this lifetime or the next. Meaning, if Kuroo left for New Years then so would Kenma, by default. 

_Baka._

“Alright,” Kenma murmured, side stepping Kuroo and picking up his pace. He was sure his toes were ice blocks by now.

“Seriously? You’re okay with that?” Kuroo asked, catching up to Kenma with two easy strides. 

“Yes. If you stop teasing me. And no meddling.”

“What! Kenma, that’s so unfair!”

“That’s my terms,” Kenma said with a tone of finality. He rarely did this with Kuroo, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

Kuroo visibly wilted, a pout forming on his lips. Kenma ignored him, opting to give his best friend the silent treatment. 

Kuroo was the first to crack.

“Okay! Fine, I won’t tease, I won’t butt in, nothing. I promise,” Kuroo stuck out his pinkie finger.

They hadn’t done this since they were kids. But, Kenma supposed a promise was a promise. He linked his pinkie with Kuroo’s, sealing the deal. Kuroo’s eyes lit up. 

“Alright! I’ll give Bo the go ahead!” Kuroo had his phone in his hands, typing out a quick message to his boyfriend and sending it before Kenma could change his mind. 

“We’ll have fun, I promise,” Kuroo said, resting his arm across Kenma’s shoulders and giving him a quick squeeze.

Kenma highly doubted the night wouldn’t end without _something_ going wrong, but he figured if Kuroo and Akaashi would be there then perhaps it was worth the trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little hint at Kenma's past here, I'm going very off Canon in terms of the boy's past for plot reasons but yeah, that should pop up sometime later in the story. 
> 
> Also, Kuroo calls Kenma's mom his mom as well (and vise versa) because Kuroo and Kenma practically grew up in each other's houses.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo meddles even though he promised he wouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> So, I was going to write this as one big chapter but then it just got way too long. So it looks like we're getting a double update tonight/this morning instead!
> 
> Hope everyone has an amazing year ahead x

“Why did I agree to this again?” Kenma yawned into his mouth. It was four in the morning and he could barely keep his eyes open.

“Because you love me,” Kuroo smirked. He was sitting behind the wheel, blinking more times than necessary in an attempt to keep himself awake. It wasn’t working. When he’d first woken Kenma up with a cup of tea in hand, he could barely stand on his own two feet. His bed head had also been worse than usual. Kenma had laughed so hard he nearly spat out his tea. In retaliation, Kuroo slung him over his shoulder fireman style and carried him down the stairs (much to Kenma’s half-assed protests).

“Whatever gets you through the day,” Kenma sassed, snuggling into the blanket his mother had given him for the trip.

They were heading back to the university for New Year’s Eve. It was an eight-hour drive, meaning having to wake up at three thirty in the morning to make it back at around one in the afternoon (if they took breakfast and bathroom breaks into consideration).

“We need to nap in the afternoon if we’re gonna survive the whole night,” Kuroo had argued.

Kenma gave another loud yawn. He was seriously reconsidering this agreement. He wasn’t one for parties and the fact that it was New Year’s only multiplied the noise and crowds. He did not have any interest in the hazard of sloshing of drinks and smell of cigarette smoke. Anyone who knew him knew he wasn’t up for these kinds of events. Even Akaashi knew.

Kenma had used Akaashi’s jacket as an excuse to visit the bookstore a little early. Kenma had been nervous at first, even though he’d done it before. He was worried Akaashi wouldn’t want to see him for some reason. However, Akaashi had beamed when Kenma had entered the store, setting his book to the side, using a red ribbon as a bookmark.

Kenma had asked if he heard the news. In lieu of an answer, Akaashi had brought out his phone, showing Kenma a stream of capitalised messages from Bokuto.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Akaashi had said. “I know how Bokuto can be stubborn. I’m guessing Kuroo is the same?”

Kenma had nodded, refraining from rolling his eyes. Finally, someone understood.

Kenma had sighed, though, saying only, “I pinky promised.”

Akaashi had raised a brow at that but didn’t ask anymore on the subject.

Three months. Kenma had known Akaashi for three months. Kenma shook his head in disbelief. Three months of watching Akaashi’s performances on the weekends, three months of visiting the bookstore under the ruse that he was there for book recommendations. He was there for book recommendations but that wasn’t the only thing anymore. He liked the conversations he had with Akaashi. How they picked up where they’d left off the last time they talked as if they hadn’t separated for a moment. It just felt comfortable. It felt safe, being the only two in that old, slightly dusty bookstore.

Once Kuroo knew where Kenma was sneaking off to on Tuesdays he’d been non-too-discreet in his meddling (even though he’d promised Kenma he wouldn’t). He'd organised a lot more double dates. “For Bo’s sake,” he’d said matter-of-factly, that Cheshire grin saying otherwise. He’d tag along with Kenma to watch Akaashi perform sometimes, lugging Bokuto behind. They’d visit the night market after or go to the restaurant Sugawara worked at only for Kuroo and Bokuto to have somewhere else to be. They would scurry away, trying to hide snickers behind their gloved hands, leaving Akaashi and Kenma to fend for themselves. Kuroo always gave Kenma a sly wink before disappearing around the corner with an arm slung around Bokuto’s waist.

Akaashi would look at him. Kenma would look back and they would sigh together about the stupidity of their friends.

Kenma felt his cheeks heat up, the corners of his mouth tipping up. He snuggled further into his mother’s blanket.

“Can I turn the radio on?” Kenma asked.

“’Course,” Kuroo said, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

Kenma reached forward, twiddling the buttons and dials until he found a station he liked. The station had a playlist going as a countdown for the end of the year, “Rounding off the best songs of twenty sixteen, so don’t miss out!” the presenter said enthusiastically.

“I’m gonna try to catch some sleep,” Kenma murmured.

“’Kay. I’ll let you know when we’re close to breakfast,” Kuroo said, giving Kenma one of his rare soft smiles before turning his attention back to the road.

Kenma nodded, not really listening. If he was lucky he could maybe catch a few hours sleep now already.

 

***

 

“AKAASHI!”

A bundle of white, grey and black burst into the store, immediately shoving the calm aura out of the window.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi said, nodding his head at his friend. He was aiming to finish his new book before the year was up but that plan may have to take a back seat for now. He placed a ribbon between the pages, closing his book carefully before putting it down on the counter.

“AKAASHI!” Bokuto yelled again as he spotted Akaashi behind the counter. He ran to the counter, heaving himself up. “Aren’t you excited?” he asked, swinging his legs back and forth in a random syncopation.

“Hm, this will be my first New Year’s here after all. I have big expectations,” Akaashi said, letting his sarcasm slip through just a little.

“I know! I can’t wait to show you all the fun stuff people do! It doesn’t look like much but this place gets really fired up!” Bokuto rambled, ignoring Akaashi’s snark.

“Do you have any set plans, or are we just going to wander from one place to another?” Akaashi asked picking up a pile of books that needed stacking. Thankfully, he wouldn’t need the ladder this time round. He’d already checked.

“Yeah! Kuroo and I have got a whole list of stuff planned out. But I’m saying nothin’, it’s a surprise!” Bokuto yelled, trying spot at Akaashi as he disappeared behind a shelf of knick-knacks.

“For who?” Akaashi asked, listening with one ear only. Bokuto’s voice always rang loud and clear no matter where he was.

“For you and Kenma, obviously! You guys both haven’t experienced a real New Year’s party, so Kuroo and I wanna make it special!”

“Wasn’t he here last year for New Year’s?” Akaashi asked his interest piqued. He wasn’t really paying attention to the order of the books any longer, just stuffing them wherever he could find space. He could always reorganise them tomorrow.

“Nope. He stayed with his mom. She doesn’t get to see him often since she lives so far away, so he decided to stay there last year,” Bokuto said, matter-of-fact.

Kenma had mentioned his mother a few times in conversation. Whenever he did, his face would soften, a small smile creeping up out of the blue. From what Akaashi could guess, Kenma had a very good relationship with his mother. He only ever had good things to say about her, telling Akaashi about how she’d been the one to introduce him to books and how they were a "portal to another world". She was the one he’d go to when he couldn’t sleep, singing the same lullaby Akaashi had played the night it rained. It was a popular lullaby for children, so it shouldn’t have surprised Akaashi as much as it did. And yet his stomach had flipped at the mention of the song, of how Kenma would crawl under his mother’s covers and ask if she would sing. It sounded so familiar to his own memories of his mother. He’d only smiled and nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“Well,” Akaashi said, wiping the dust off of his fingers and rounding the corner of the shelf. He was met with a beaming Bokuto, hair up in his usual gelled spikes, his bird-like eyes attentive and bright. He was still swinging his legs back and forth, back and forth.

“I can only hope we don’t get into too much trouble,” Akaashi said, giving Bokuto a small smile.

 

***

 

“Kenma, we’re here. Kenma.” Kenma felt a warm hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. He’d been dreaming about the field of flowers again, Akaashi there to welcome him with his classical violin in hand. He’d played the lullaby, his mother’s song.

“Hm,” Kenma hummed, sitting up. His mother’s blanket fell from his shoulders. Looking out of the windshield, Kenma was met with the University parking lot, a few cars littering the plot like discarded candies.

“Come on, you can sleep once we’re unpacked,” Kuroo chuckled, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening his door. Icy air shot through the doorway, shrouding Kenma in a cloud of cold. Now that it was winter, the air had turned deathly cold, snow and sleet a given occurrence most days.

Kenma bundled himself in his mother’s blanket. It was her christmas gift for this year. Kenma loved it the minute he laid eyes on it. "So you don't forget me when you become a rich and famous game designer," she'd said. Kenma had smiled. "Not possible. How could I forget the most beautiful person in the world?"

He burrowed into it now. It smelled like her perfume. It smelled like home.

Kuroo pulled Kenma’s door open with a muffled _click_ and tugged Kenma’s blanket off in one go.

Kuroo cackled at Kenma’s disgruntled humph. “Come on, Kitten.” Kenma could feel his nose scrunching but he didn’t care. If he’d had his way he'd still be fast asleep in his old bed in his mother's house.

After a minute of haggling (including Kuroo threatening to fireman-carry Kenma again), Kenma finally got out of the car. He grabbed his suitcase out of the boot and snatched his blanket from Kuroo, much to Kuroo’s amusement.

“See you in a few hours,” Kuroo cackled, giving Kenma a wink before heading off to his dorm room where Bokuto was most likely waiting for him. Kenma didn’t grace his friend with a response, rather choosing to head straight to the campus coffee shop for a chai latte. He was in dire need of a fix.

When he entered the shop, Lev was behind the counter to greet him.

“Kenma! You came back!” Lev yelled, vaulting off the counter and running to meet Kenma at the doorway.

Kenma took a step back, about to head right back out of the door when Yaku appeared from the back room.

“Baka-Lev,” he said calmly, leaning against the doorway with the sort of confidence usually only Kuroo could pull off.

Lev stopped in his tracks and turned to face Yaku.

“Y-yes, Yaku-senpai?”

“Don’t terrorize the customers,” Yaku said, nodding at Kenma with a smile that said Don’t worry, I’ll keep him on his leash.

Kenma nodded back in thanks.

“Ah!” Lev turned back to Kenma, his eyes wide. “I’m sorry Kenma! I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just really happy to see you!”

“It’s okay, Lev,” Kenma murmered, averting his eyes as he sidestepped the beanpole of a boy. “Could I get my usual? I’ve had a long drive.”

“Sure thing,” Yaku said, take away cup already in hand.

His chai latte was ready in a matter of seconds, extra foam and cinnamon and all.

“Here you go,” Yaku said.

Kenma paid the exact amount due and took a sip. He sighed in relief. He’d missed this. He'd missed Lev and Yaku’s bickering, Yaku’s smirk and Lev’s enthusiasm even. He’d only been gone a week and yet it felt like years. He wondered how Akaashi had felt when he finally got to see his friends and his family again, after his tour with the orchestra. Had he been happy? Relieved? Had he felt his uneasiness disappear a little? Kenma hoped he had, or least that it would tonight. He didn’t know whether Akaashi liked big crowds. He seemed to handle them pretty well at his performances.

“You going into town tonight, Kenma?” Lev asked, back at his post behind the counter. He started wiping down the area with a wet cloth.

“Hm. Kuroo’s dragging me with,” Kenma said, taking another long sip at his tea. He felt some foam settle on his upper lip. He licked it away.

“Ah! He must be so cool to hang out with!” Lev said, awe in his eyes.

“He’s certainly interesting, let’s just say that,” Yaku said, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Wherever he goes, trouble follows like a shadow.”

“Bokuto will be there too,” Kenma said.

Yaku burst into a throaty laugh, causing Lev to jump ten feet high.

“Good luck to you, Kenma!” Yaku gasped for air, clutching his stomach. Kenma smiled at the rare spectacle before him. Yaku could almost always be seen with a mischievous glint in his eye, a smirk splitting his face. But it was rare to see him so open.

Lev looked absolutely shocked, his jaw dropped. His eyes were wide, eyebrows so high they were practically a part of his hairline.

“Yaku-san, I didn’t know you could laugh.”

A loud thwack reverberated through the shop, along with an “Ow! Yaku-senpai!”

Lev was doubled over from being kicked behind the knees. Yaku’s usual smirk was back.

“Baka-Lev,” Yaku muttered, shaking his head. His smile changed into one of fondness. Then just like that it was gone.

“Anything else you might like, Kenma-san?” Yaku asked, turning his attention away from his whining co-worker.

“No, thank you,” Kenma said, inclining his head before heading to the door.

He could hear Lev whining about something and Yaku backhanding him with clever comments every step of the way. He opened the door, the winter air rushing in, and then hesitated. Kenma turned to face Yaku and Lev, who were still bickering.

“Happy New Year,” Kenma said, trying not to let his words shake.

Yaku stopped mid-sentence, turning his attention to Kenma. Lev did the same, blinking confusedly.

“Sorry, Kenma-san, did you ask something?” Yaku asked.

“Happy New Years,” Kenma repeated, keeping his words steady and loud enough for the barristers to hear.

Lev’s face broke into an ear-splitting grin. “You too Kenma!”

Yaku smiled as well, crossing his arms. “Try to keep Bokuto and Kuroo out of trouble, okay?”

Kenma nodded, exiting the shop and letting the door shut behind him.

 

***

 

“KENMA!”

Kenma shot up from his bed, his face scrunching. What time was it?

Kenma picked up his phone, careful not to unplug it from its charger. It was twenty minutes to seven. He was supposed to meet Kuroo and Bokuto at their dormroom at half past six.

“KENMA! YOU AWAKE?” Bokuto’s voice came from the other side of his door, followed by a serious of loud knocks.

“Yes,” Kenma moaned, falling back into his pillows.

“Liar,” Kuroo said as he pushed the door open with a hard shove. Maintenance still hadn’t gotten around to fixing it. Kenma had accepted his fate by now, ready to live with the fact that he’d always have to fight with his door to get it to open.

“Come on, Kitten. We don’t want to leave Akaashi hanging, now do we?”

No, no he didn’t. It was Saturday meaning Akaashi would be performing tonight. Kenma hadn’t missed a performance once and he wasn’t going to start now. He pushed his covers away, albeit regrettably, and stumbled out of bed, heading to his chest of drawers.

Kuroo stepped into his path, blocking Kenma.

“Nope,” he said, his shit-eating grin on at full force.

This was not going to be good.

“Kuro,” Kenma almost growled. He did not have the time for this. He still had to find an outfit and do his makeup. Plus his hair was especially unruly today. He might not like parties but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to put some effort in for tonight. He’d even painted his nails black for the occasion, which was a rarity.

“I need to get dressed,” Kenma, said, squeezing his hands into fists at his side. This was Kuroo and Bokuto’s idea in the first place, why were they stalling?

“I don’t even know what I’m wearing,” Kenma muttered, letting his anger slip away just as quickly as it had emerged. He didn’t like getting angry, he didn’t see the point in such a waste of energy. And besides, knowing Kuroo and Bokuto, he’d need as much energy as he could muster if he wanted to survive the night.

“Already covered,” Kuroo said, clicking his fingers. Bokuto tossed a plastic bag at Kuroo.

“Think fast,” Kuroo said, chucking the bag to Kenma. Kenma stumbled, barely managing to get a grip on the slippery plastic.

“What is this?” Kenma asked, not willing to open the bag.

“Your outfit for tonight,” Kuroo said, his eyes flickering to Bokuto and then back to Kenma.

Kenma spotted Bokuto bouncing on his heels with excitement. He was wearing Kuroo’s letterman jacket (it was the only one that fit his broad build) along with a grey jumper and a pair of ripped skinny jeans that hugged his thighs a little too tightly. His hair was spiked especially wildly for the night’s festivities.

Kuroo looked like Bokuto’s complete opposite in an all-black ensemble. Black leather jacket, black V-neck jersey, black ripped jeans and combat boots to top it all off. They looked like the jock and the rebel. It was both ridiculous and sweet at the same time.

Kenma looked down at the plastic bag in his hands. He slid his hand inside, feeling the material. He was met with a soft, woollen texture, most likely a sweater but then there was something else…

“Are you serious?”

Kuroo only grinned.

 

***

 

Akaashi had just finished setting up when he heard Bokuto call his name.

Akaashi turned, searching for his friends in the crowd. The town square was always full of patrons on the weekend, due to the late-night markets and restaurants. Tonight it was especially crowded. People were decked out in their finest, boys wearing button down shirts and girls wearing short skirts with stockings to supposedly keep their legs warm. A lot of the university students were out tonight, sporting party hats and feather boas. They were yelling and shouting, excitement evident in their voices. Akaashi had figured it would busy tonight, he just didn’t realise to what extent.

Bokuto yelled again. “AKAASHI!” Akaashi finally spotted Bokuto’s toothy smile and Kuroo’s mess of black hair. They looked like complete opposites, Bokuto in a letterman jacket and Kuroo in leather of all things, and yet somehow their outfits seemed to coincide. It just… worked. They worked.

“Hello Bokuto, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi greeted them, inclining his head. He glanced behind Kuroo’s shoulder and searched the crowd, looking for a familiar head of blonde-brown hair.

“Hey man, good to see you,” Kuroo said, bringing Akaashi’s attention back with a friendly clap on the shoulder. His other hand was linked with Bokuto’s, tucked safely away from the cold in Bokuto’s jacket pocket.

“Akaashi, why didn’t you dress up?” Bokuto whined.

“I did –” Akaashi started when he spotted Kenma.

His hair was pinned back into two thick braids, some baby hairs sticking out at the nape of his neck. He had makeup on tonight, his signature sweeping eyeliner making his eyes pop. But that wasn’t what made Akaashi's breath hitch. It was the fishnet stockings.

Kenma wore a long dark grey knit sweater that cut halfway down his thighs, a pair of fishnet stockings covering the rest of his legs. They weren’t the cabaret-styled stockings with big holes, though. They were more tightly knit, giving off a classier, rebel air. His boots were black, decorated with two silver buckles on the sides, his nails painted to match.

Akaashi felt like his lungs were about to collapse.

Kenma froze when he saw Akaashi staring. He looked like he was about to bolt.

Akaashi stepped forward, careful to keep a but of distance between himself and Kenma.

“Hi,” Akaashi whispered. He could feel their bubble begin to expand, separating them from the rest of the world.

“Hi,” Kenma murmured back, ducking his head. His eyelashes looked especially long tonight, probably from a few layers of mascara.

Not that he needs it. Still, it looked lovely, accentuating Kenma’s eyes along with the eyeliner.

“You look,” Akaashi started, and then stopped himself. Would Kenma be okay with this? With Akaashi commenting on him?

Kenma looked up, meeting Akaashi’s gaze head on.

_Oh._

All the noise around them disappeared instantly, the crowd melting away into the night. For that moment, that millisecond, it was just Akaashi and Kenma. Heat pooled all the down from his cheeks to his toes.

“Yes?” Kenma asked, breaking the moment. Akaashi blinked, stepping out of his trance. Right, he was here, in the middle of the town square, surrounded by people (including his best friend and his best friend’s boyfriend) and yet here he was gaping at Kenma.

_Just say it._

“You look phenomenal,” Akaashi said.

Kenma looked taken aback, his eyes widening.

Akaashi internally kicked himself. He ducked his head in embarrassment. The last thing he wanted to do was make Kenma feel uncomfortable and now he’d gone and –

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Kenma whispered.

Akaashi peeked out from under his eyelashes to be met with a tentative smile.

“Thank you,” Akaashi spluttered.

“You’re welcome,” Kenma said.

Kuroo cleared his throat.

Akaashi turned to look at the couple over his shoulder. Their hands were still secure in Bokuto’s jacket. Bokuto looked totally unfazed about it as if it were normal to have someone else’s hand in his pocket. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to Kuroo at all, actually. Instead, both men had their gazes firmly set on Akaashi and Kenma, Kuroo with a smirk even James Bond couldn’t pull off and Bokuto practically jumping up and down with excitement.

Akaashi stepped away from Kenma, giving him some more space and hoping to draw the attention to himself rather. Kenma was stepping out of his comfort zone by agreeing to come tonight. He didn’t need to feel any more uncomfortable than he probably already did.

“I’m going to go.” Akaashi pointed a thumb over his shoulder at his set up, already starting to walk away from his friends.

“Break a leg,” Kuroo said.

“GOOD LUCK AKAASHI!” Bokuto yelled, causing several heads to turn in his direction. He ignored all of them in favour of snuggling closer to Kuroo and beckoning Kenma closer.

Kenma stepped to Kuroo’s side, hiding just a little behind his best friend’s towering form.

Akaashi turned to his classical violin, trying to settle his breathing with no success.

_It’s just another performance. You’ve done this already. You know how this works by now_ , Akaashi thought, over and over again. He waited until his breathing settled, creating a slow, even tempo.

He placed his classical violin on his shoulder, resting his chin on the groove. Lightly, he brought the bow to the strings, testing out the sound. For once, it didn’t need any tweaking.

Breathe. _Breathe_ , he reminded himself.

Akaashi looked at Bokuto who gave him a thumbs up. Kuroo’s grin turned into something a little softer and Kenma – Kenma lifted his chin, keeping his gaze fixed on Akaashi. Only Akaashi.

He said everything and nothing all at once with his eyes.

_Good luck, you’ll be fine. I know you’ll be fine._

_I’m here if you need me._

Akaashi widened his stance, placing his fingers on the strings for the first note.

He took a deep breath and started to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really really want to keep writing the next part but at the same time, I'm falling asleep sitting up which is a miracle within itself. I think I'm going to leave the chapter where it is and post the second part in the morning when my head isn't so jumbled >.<
> 
> Hope everyone has/had an amazing New Year's Eve with friends and family x
> 
> UPDATE
> 
> I am very close to finishing the next chapter! It will be up by this afternoon, I promise!
> 
> ANOTHER UPDATE
> 
> I lied, I'm really really sorry. I am working really hard on the next chapter but I don't know when I'm gonna post it. I'm hoping to post it before Friday and then also update on Friday like usual but I honestly can't make any promises. Again, I'm really really sorry, this next chapter is super fluffy and cute and developmental and I really hope you guys like it once I finally I get it finsihed x


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Eve part 2/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a few days late and I don't know if I'm super happy with it but I think it's okay for now. If I really don't like it tomorrow then I'll re-write it but yeah, for now, please accept this mess as a belated New Year's gift x

After Akaashi’s’ performance, everyone helped lug Akaashi’s equipment back to the safety of his apartment. Bokuto gushed over Akaashi's performance the entire way, much to Kuroo's amusement. Kenma’s stomach growled profusely, leading to Kuroo offering to pay for supper if they were willing to head back to the restaurant where Sugawara worked. “He’s cute and they’ve got apple pie,” Kuroo had argued with a shrug.

Both Akaashi and Kenma offered to pay for their own meals, but Kuroo waved them off.

Now, with their stomachs stuffed and, in the case of Bokuto and Kuroo, cheeks red with the buzz of beer, the four friends made their way out into the night. Sugawara was smiling at them through the window, giving them a polite wave and a genuine smile. He’d said his shift would be ending early tonight. Kenma hoped he’d be able to spend that time with his friends.

“Let’s go ice-skating!” Bokuto said suddenly, grabbing Kuroo’s hand and jumping up and down.

“Is there even a rink?” Akaashi asked, coming up behind Kenma.

Kenma reminded himself to breathe. White puffs of smoke escaped his lips with every breath. His legs were freezing thanks to Kuroo’s fishnet stockings.

When Kenma had first unsheathed the stockings from their packaging, he’d thought it was a joke. Kuroo had only grinned. His legs felt like icicles, the thin knit sweater dress he was wearing doing nothing to keep out the cold, but Kuroo had said it would be worth it. Kenma had seriously doubted that until his eyes had met Akaashi’s.

He had looked so… open, so exposed. All of the noise that Kenma was frightened of had evaporated like smoke. All the people and the staring and the hungry smiles gone. All he could see was Akaashi and how his mouth was slightly agape, his eyes big green and black orbs.

_You look phenomenal_.

“There is actually. It’s pretty good considering how old it is,” Kuroo said, leading the pack.

“Yeah! Kuroo took me there for our first date! It’s an outside rink, so they’ve got a hot chocolate stand that also sells beer and fairy lights in the trees and everything! It was super fun! I mean, I nearly got my fingers sliced off, but it was still fun!” Bokuto added, grinning uncontrollably. They’d each had a beer at the restaurant (all except Kenma, who’d asked for apple juice). Suffice to say, alcohol plus Bokuto equalled an infinite amount of boisterous energy.

“Can we go Akaashi, please?” Bokuto asked. He let go of Kuroo in favour of stopping Akaashi in his tracks, holding him hostage until he said yes. He was holding onto the 'e', stretching it out.

Akaashi looked at Kenma. _Would you like to?_

Kenma considered it. He’d never ice skated before. He wasn’t really graceful and it didn’t help that the only padding he had were fishnet stockings of all things. Where Kuroo had even gotten them, Kenma did not want to know.

Kenma glanced at Kuroo, who returned the look. _It’s your call._

Kenma imagined the scene. Fairy lights and the smell of hot chocolate wafting through the air. A small amount of people on the ice, a few kids here and there stumbling every once in a while, only for their parents to give them a helping hand up.

He imagined Kuroo and Bokuto and the trouble they’d probably get up to, and Akaashi who was in the center of it all.

He that, perhaps, it could be enjoyable.

Kenma nodded, giving Akaashi the go ahead.

Akaashi waited for another second, checking that Kenma was sure.

_I’m sure_ , Kenma communicated through his eyes.

“Okay,” Akaashi said, turning back to a red-faced Bokuto, “Just try not to maul any kids on the ice.”

Bokuto was still holding onto the “e” like an opera singer on his final note. He looked as if he were about to faint.

“Really?” he asked, gasping for air.

Akaashi nodded. “It could be fun.”

Bokuto hooted, pumping a fist in the air. “Yes! Ice skating, here we come!”

 

***

 

This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea. Why had Kenma agreed to this?

Kenma was sitting on the bench, struggling with the laces of his hired-out skates. The man at the counter had given them to him with the laces done in horrific crisscrosses and knots, stating that’s how he’d gotten them. As if that were a valid excuse.

Kenma had attempted to re-lace the left shoe, the skate sitting in his lap with half of the laces done. He spotted a little boy whose mother was tying his laces for him further down on the bench. The boy was wrapped up warmly in ten-too-many layers, only eyes visible from behind his scarf and the hood of his jacket. His mother tied off the laces with little bows, inspecting her handiwork before giving her hand to her son to help him up. His laces were crossed over neatly, like ribbons on a pointe shoe. Kenma’s laces did not look like that.

Kenma sighed, turning his attention back to the task at hand.

Kuroo and Bokuto were already out and causing chaos on the ice. At first, they had raced around the rink to see who could skate the fastest without falling, resulting in one of the staff telling them to knock it off otherwise they’d be escorted out. They had snickered like school boys caught in the act before choosing to hold hands and skate at a more leisurely pace instead.

Kenma found himself abandoning his skate, opting to watch the couple for a little while rather.

They really did look good together.

He wondered what it would feel like to put his hand in someone else’s without any fear that they would snatch it away. To know that that person would be there always to lace their fingers with his. Kenma felt his stomach churn like it had that night at the restaurant.

“You okay?” Akaashi asked softly, bringing Kenma out of his reverie.

Kenma looked down at his half-hearted attempt at re-lacing his skates. He then eyed Akaashi’s white skates. They looked like a professional’s, fitting Akaashi’s feet like slippers.

_And then the clock struck twelve…_

“Here,” Akaashi said, gently taking the skate out of Kenma’s grasp. He sat down beside Kenma, leaving a pocket of space between the two of them as he undid Kenma’s work and started re-lacing the shoe properly.

He was done in a matter of minutes, passing Kenma the skate before starting on the other.

“You alright putting them on?” Akaashi asked once he’d handed Kenma the other skate.

“Shouldn’t be too difficult,” Kenma said, looking down at his skates. To be honest, it looked a little daunting.

“It’s just like tying your shoe laces,” Akaashi said softly, leaning in a little so only Kenma could hear him.

Kenma tried to ignore the soft puff of breath at his neck by shoving his feet into his skates. His fingers fumbled with the laces at first but once he imagined them as his favourite pair of converse, it didn’t seem so hard anymore. He tied off his double knots in neat little bows, knocking his toes together to see if the skates fit right. They felt all right, nothing was pinching which was probably a good sign.

“Do you want to try?” Akaashi asked, nodding his head towards the ice.

Kenma looked out at the ice, ignoring Bokuto and Kuroo. The little boy was skating on his own now, his mother watching by the railing and giving encouragements. The boy stumbled, bending over backwards before righting himself.

“Woah! Ma! Ma! Did you see that? I didn’t fall!”

Kenma turned his gaze back to Akaashi who was waiting patiently for his response.

“Okay,” Kenma nodded, standing up and immediately regretting it. The blades of the skates made holding his balance very difficult. They expected him to walk in these all the way to the rink entrance?

“Here,” Akaashi said, offering his arm. “It can be difficult the first time, I know.”

Kenma’s hands tingled. His fingers were going numb. He clenched his hand into a tight fist, his bottom lip finding its way between his teeth.

He’s being nice. He’s being Akaashi.

Kenma gripped at Akaashi’s sleeve, pinching the soft material of his cardigan.

“Ready?” Akaashi asked, walking slowly towards the rink. Kenma shuffled awkwardly, not wanting to fall. Although he knew once he was out on the ice it would probably be inevitable.

They made it to the entrance in one piece, Akaashi saying nothing but keeping his arm steady for Kenma to hold on to. Kenma rubbed the soft material of Akaashi’s cardigan between his fingers. It was soft, well-worn.

“Have you ever rollerbladed before?” Akaashi asked.

Kenma shook his head. His childhood had consisted of video games, books and being annoyed by Kuroo.

“Okay,” Akaashi softly, thinking to himself. His eyelids looked heavier than normal, his lashes brushing his cheeks.

“How about this. I’ll skate with you, if you like? You can hold on if you need to. Or, I can just be there, in case you fall?”

It was a quiet suggestion, one Kenma could turn down without feeling guilty. And yet -

“If you’re okay with that?” Kenma whispered.

Akaashi smiled.

“Of course.”

Kenma released Akaashi’s sleeve as Akaashi stepped onto the rink, his blades gliding easily on the ice.

He turned around slowly so that he was facing Kenma. He offered his hands.

“I’m going to skate backwards, so I’ll always be right here. If you want to stop, just tell me.”

Kenma’s hands lifted of their own accord, his hands lying softly on Akaashi’s palms. His fingers were long and elegant. Musician’s hands.

“Slide one skate onto the ice,” Akaashi prompted, keeping his gaze set on Kenma. It was soft and open. Kenma could feel his heart beat in his throat.

He stepped out onto the ice, the surface feeling odd and strange. He wasn’t used to this.

“Good, now you can slide the other.”

Kenma bit at his bottom lip. He didn’t know why but he was scared.

“Don’t worry,” Akaashi whispered, interrupting Kenma’s thoughts. “I’m here if you need me.”

Kenma took a deep breath in and out, in and out. He slid his other skate onto the ice and nearly fell backwards. Nearly.

“Here we are,” Akaashi said, chuckling under his breath as he helped Kenma straighten up.

Kenma could feel the soft flesh of Akaashi’s palms under his fingers. He didn’t like it.

He took his hands away, slowly, adjusting his grip so that he clung to the sleeves of Akaashi’s cardigan instead. Akaashi said nothing about it. Instead, he started to move, turning Kenma’s body until he faced the direction everyone else was skating.

“Skating is actually easy. It’s keeping your balance that can be difficult,” Akaashi said, his words unhurried. “You have to try keep your weight a little forward, that way you don’t fall back as much.” Akaashi demonstrated, bending his knees and tilting his chest forward a little.

Kenma did the same.

“Good,” Akaashi said, slow and steady.

_No one is watching, it’s okay._

“Now comes the fun part. You slide your right foot forward and try bringing your weight with you. Then you slide your left foot.” Akaashi started to move, sliding his left foot backwards first, and then his right. Kenma kept his feet firmly parallel the first few strokes, letting Akaashi pull him along the length of the rink.

“You’re not going to let me do all the work are you?” Akaashi asked with a hint of a smirk. His green eyes his were luminous with a glint of mischief.

“No,” Kenma humphed, looking down at his feet. The blades were starting to collect a bundle of ice shavings, his toes knocking together every once in a while. How was Akaashi doing this backwards?

“Then give it a try,” Akaashi said. Kenma could hear the tease in his tone. It was rare and alluring.

Kenma pushed his right foot forward, trying to follow Akaashi’s rhythm.

“Remember to keep your weight forward,” Akaashi said, teasing gone and replaced with something gentler.

Kenma did as he was told. Bending his knees slightly and keeping his chest tipped forward, he transferred his weight onto his left foot.

He didn’t fall.

“Huh,” Kenma muttered as he did it again, moving onto his right foot, then the left. Right, left, right, left.

“You’re doing well,” Akaashi said, causing Kenma to look up and nearly lose his balance.

“Sorry,” Kenma murmured as he fixed his grip on Akaashi’s sleeves.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing great for your first time. I wasn’t nearly this good,” Akaashi said. Kenma highly doubted it, but accepted the white lie anyway.

“We’re coming to the corner, so you’re going to lean on your left foot for a little longer than usual. Once we’ve rounded the corner, we just go back to the first pattern.”

Kenma tightened his grip on Akaashi’s cardigan before leaning all of his weight forward and onto his left foot. He stumbled a little, having to find his footing before pushing off again. They made it around the corner.

“I did it,” Kenma said, not quite believing it.

“So you did,” Akaashi said, his smile breaking out into a grin.

“Come on slow pokes, you’re missing all the fun!” Kuroo came whizzing by, Bokuto hot on his heels.

“Ignore them,” Akaashi said, bringing Kenma’s attention back to them. To their little bubble.

Kenma nodded, smiling to himself as he started the pattern again.

Right, left. Right, left.

 

***

 

“Come on, I wanna make it back in time for the countdown!” Bokuto yelled, running ahead with his arms spread wide. He looked like he was trying to fly.

“We’ve still got an hour Bo, no need to rush,” Kuroo chuckled.

“Still! I don’t wanna miss all the fun!”

“Then what are we doing right now?” Kuroo asked before lugging a snowball at Bokuto’s head. He missed by an inch.

“Hey!” Bokuto laughed, gathering up some snow for ammunition.

“Hey hey hey,” Kuroo retorted, cackling.

Bokuto threw a snowball while his boyfriend was distracted, hitting him straight on the nose.

“Oh. Ohohoho, so that’s how you wanna play?” Kuroo said, bending his knees and widening his stance as if he were about to pounce.

“Oh crap,” Bokuto giggled, before hightailing it down the street.

Akaashi sighed, shaking his head in amusement. He looked at Bokuto the way Kenma knew he looked at Kuroo.

Kenma dug his hands deeper into his – Akaashi’s – jacket pocket. He finally spoke up. “Thank you.”

Akaashi turned his gaze to Kenma, amusement still present in his eyes. He tiled his head, giving Kenma his owlish look.

“For helping me,” Kenma continued, taking a sip of his hot chocolate to buy some time. “For helping me with all of… that,” he waved an arm behind him, indicating the ice rink they were leaving farther and farther behind in the distance. “You didn’t have to but you did. So thank you.”

“Of course,” Akaashi said, turning his eyes back to the road.

Of course. As if it weren’t even a question.

Kenma turned his gaze back to the road as well, spotting Kuroo just as he tackled Bokuto into a pile of snow.

“Ah, shit! Kuroo! Now my pants are wet!”

“That’s what she said,” Kuroo cackled before Bokuto dumped a large mound of snow on his head.

“They really are –” Akaashi started.

“Perfect for each other,” Kenma whispered to himself.

He could feel Akaashi’s keen green eyes on him, but he didn’t return the look. He couldn’t, not right now. His stomach was doing the thing again and this time he couldn’t tell if it was nerves or jealousy or what.

Akaashi said nothing as they continued back to the center of town.

 

***

 

“Oh! Oh! Kuroo! KUROO! IT’S STARTING SOON! Hurry up! I wanna kiss you at midnight!” Bokuto pulled a slightly tipsy Kuroo behind him as he dove into the crowd, Kuroo chuckling at his boyfriend’s enthusiasm. People had gathered at the town square where Akaashi usually performed to do the countdown, seeing as a clock stood to one side of the courtyard. It read two minutes to midnight.

“You alright?” Akaashi asked Kenma. The crowd was rather big and boisterous due to alcohol and goodness know's what else. It wasn’t something Akaashi was willing to dive head first into, and he highly doubted that Kenma was willing to do so either.

Kenma nodded, although he didn’t look so sure.

“Do you want to sit down for a bit?” Akaashi offered, pointing at an empty bench.

Kenma nodded again, this time seeming much surer. He shuffled over to the bench and sat down near the arm rest, right at the edge. Akaashi followed, sitting down at the opposite end to give Kenma some space.

People were already pairing off, getting ready to kiss at midnight. In Japan it wasn’t really something that was done, being so open about one’s relationship (Kuroo and Bokuto being the exception to the unspoken rule). But on this one night, everyone agreed to forget that. For one moment, everyone agreed to kiss their beloved or some stranger they’d just met so they didn’t enter the New Year alone.

“Ah! Kenma-san!” the silver-haired waiter from the restaurant – Sugawara, Akaashi remembered – came over. A man with broad shoulders and dark cropped hair was on his arm.

“Hello, Sugawara,” Kenma said, inclining his head. “I’m glad to see you got off from work.”

“So’s Daichi. He says I work too hard.” Sugawara gave a naughty grin, aiming it at the man at his side.

“Well, you do," Daichi said with a shy smile.

“Is Kuroo and Bokuto-san still with you?” Sugawara asked.

“Hm. They’ve disappeared into the black hole somewhere over there,” Akaashi said, pointing in the general direction of the crowd.

“I suppose they’re waiting for midnight?” Sugawara asked knowingly.

Akaashi nodded in response.

“It’s always fun, isn’t it? I remember my first New Year’s kiss was with Daichi back in high school.” Sugawara turned his naughty smile back to Daichi, who looked like his heart was about to give out. “He was so nervous, he almost didn’t go through with it. So I just grabbed him by his tie and the rest is history.”

Akaashi smiled, his chest warming up. He could see how close these two were, how comfortable they seemed in each other’s company. Daichi’s ears were red with embarrassment, Sugawara laughing at his boyfriend sweetly before planting a kiss on his cheek. Sugawara whispered something in Daichi's ear. His blush deepened, but another shy smile also made an appearance.

“Anyway, we’ve got to catch up with the rest of our group. Happy New year Kenma, Akaashi-kun!” Sugawara said, giving a small wave before heading back into the crowd. Daichi gave a nervous but kind smile over his shoulder before following his boyfriend.

Akaashi heard something prickling at his ear. He turned his head to the right to find Kenma chuckling. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, some strands of hair brushing his cheeks. He looked calm and happy; unburdened.

“I never knew Sugawara could be so…” Kenma started.

“Colorful,” Akaashi suggested.

“Yes,” Kenma said, meeting Akaashi’s eyes. “Colourful.”

Just then, someone yelled, “Ten! Nine!”

The crowd picked it up, shouting all together, “Eight! Seven!”

Akaashi’s fingers twisted in his pockets. He looked at Kenma who he found was looking at him too.

“Six! Five!”

Akaashi searched for a hint, a clue in Kenma’s golden eyes.

Would he be okay with it? _Will you be okay with it?_ he wanted to ask.

“Four! Three!”

Kenma turned his head to the clock, watching as the arm moved to strike twelve.

“Two! One!”

Akaashi leaned in and pecked Kenma on the cheek, as soft and as chaste as he possibly could.

“Happy New Year!”

Kenma jumped under Akaashi’s touch. Akaashi immediately pulled back.

Kenma’s eyes were wide, blinking rapidly as if he were trying to wake up from a dream.

Akaashi’s words caught in his throat, his fingers fiddling with the lining of his pockets. Why did he do that? Why did he do that without asking?

“I –”

“It’s snowing,” Kenma murmured.

Akaashi looked up to have a speck of white land on his nose. Melting instantly, the snowflake dripped down to his mouth, running all way down his chin and neck until it seeped into his shirt collar.

Akaashi turned his gaze back to Kenma. Specks of white danced across his cheeks like freckles. Like stars.

“So it is,” Akaashi said dumbly, looking up once again and letting the snowflakes settle on his skin. It felt as if the sky were kissing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry I didn't update yesterday! I've decided to move my publishing day to Sundays mainly because it'll give me some more time to write (as well as school is starting soon, need to mentally prepare for that one).
> 
> Just a few things for reassurance:
> 
> I will be continuing this fic.
> 
> It'll probably be at least 18-20 chapters long.
> 
> I might not be able to update every week, so sorry in advance for sporadic updating (o"o)
> 
> If you have any questions you can leave me a comment or if you want you can send me an ask/private message me on my Tumblr: http://deliciouslysubtledelusion.tumblr.com/
> 
> Hope everyone's doing well and thank you for the amazing comments and support x


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma receives some advice, Akaashi worries too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a day late but here it is!
> 
> I'm really sorry for the long wait, but I hope this chapter's worth it <3

_Hey hey Kenma! Long time no write again (really sorry!)_

_I’m also sorry I can’t be there right now so we could talk properly but our match against your Uni team is soon so maybe we can talk more then? (If you want to obviously!)_

_To be honest, I’ve never felt the way you described to me, at least I don’t think? I mean, you know how I’m okay with anyone being with anyone because it’s just cool that people fall in love in general!_

_Not that I think you’re being phobic! Obviously not because you’re Kenma, you’re cool! (Sorry if that sounded rude o”o) I mean, I was there the whole time Kageyama was going through the whole discovery process when he realised he was Ace and he was okay talking to me about how he was feeling and stuff, so I know a little about what that means at least. If you have any questions you can always send them to me and I can ask Kageyama for you! Or if you wanna ask in person he can always come with when we meet up! (If you’re okay with that obviously ;3 )_

_I’m sorry I can’t help more *-*_

_This Akaashi guy sounds really cool by the way! You guys seem really similar, like he’s easy to talk to! Is he nice to talk to? He seems easy to talk to from what you described! And he sounds like a nice guy in general. Is he nice to you? He better be otherwise I’ll kick his butt! (ง'̀-'́)ง_

_Unless he’s taller than me…_

_What does he look like anyway? You didn’t even tell me what he looks like! Is he tall? Has he got a lot of muscles? Is he pretty? He probably is, I bet! Although musicians don’t always look very nice compared to how pretty their playing is…_

_Oh, Baka-Kageyama is calling me, gotta get going for practice! It’s our last one for this season so we’ve gotta make it count!_

_I’ll send this letter as soon as I get back, I promise!_

_Have a good Christmas with Kuroo and your mom! And happy New Year!_

_Shouyou xx_

 

Kenma re-read Shouyou’s letter even though, by now, he had it memorised. It had arrived a little later than usual due to the rush during Christmas and New Years. Kenma had only received the letter this morning. 

_It’s still a secret so don’t worry!_ That made Kenma smile. Shouyou was sweet and Kenma was sure he meant well, but Shouyou was terrible at being discreet. Knowing Kageyama, Kenma guessed he had figured out whom Shouyou was talking about the moment Shouyou had opened his mouth. Kenma didn’t mind, though. From what Shouyou had described, Kageyama seemed like the kind of person who could keep a secret. 

Kenma sighed and placed the pages carefully back into their orange, hand-made envelope (it was something Shouyou had done since they were kids). He laid the letter on his bedside table before turning over to face the wall, his back to the rest of the room. 

His fingers itched, but he didn’t want to play a game right now and he’d finished Akaashi’s book during Christmas break. Kenma looked over his shoulder to his desk, spotting Akaashi’s jacket slung across the back of his desk chair. Kenma had officially been back at school for a week only, but he just couldn’t find the time to go down to the bookstore. He hadn’t even gone on Tuesday. 

He thought back to New Year’s, the sweet smell hot chocolate and the cold snow leeching through his shoes, nipping at his toes. At the countdown Kenma had been freezing cold but also happy. He’d spent the evening with his friends, had learnt to ice skate without making a complete fool of himself, and the noise hadn’t gotten to him. Akaashi always managed to drown out any of the static Kenma usually experienced in big crowds, something only his game console had ever accomplished. 

Akaashi… 

So maybe Kenma had had time to visit the bookstore. He just didn’t have the courage. Not after the way he had reacted. Akaashi had kissed him. It wasn’t what was considered a “real” kiss but to Kenma it still felt like something. Something massive and not easy to ignore. He’d been caught off guard.

 

_He was keeping himself distracted by watching the arms of the clock so he didn’t have to focus on the crowd. Akaashi was close by but he wasn’t invading Kenma’s space. He never invaded Kenma’s space. Kenma could just pick out Kuroo and Bokuto cuddling in the center of the circle. Neither were hard to miss with their signature hairstyles. Sugawara and Daichi were a little ways away on the outer edge of the crowd. Sugawara kept looking up at Daichi with a small smile on his face. Kenma looked away, his stomach flipping. That’s when he’d turned his attention to the clock, counting down in his head with the rest of the world._

_Ten, nine, eight…_

_Akaashi was quiet, but it wasn’t his usual quiet._

_Seven, six…_

_Kenma could feel waves of heat radiating off of Akaashi, a certain wariness almost._

_Five, four…_

_He wanted to ask what was wrong, but the words got stuck. They always got stuck._

_Three, two, one._

_His heart stopped when he felt a soft pressure on his cheek. He didn’t mean to jerk back but he just wasn’t expecting that. Not a kiss. Not from Akaashi. At first, he felt confused. He didn’t understand what had happened. But then he felt a small patch of heat blossom on his cheek and it clicked._

He kissed you on the cheek. Akaashi just kissed you on the cheek. 

_Kenma tried to school his features but his face wouldn’t listen. He could feel his eyes bulging out of his head. He was shocked. He was a little scared and confused but he didn’t want Akaashi to think he hated him. He didn’t hate Akaashi. He just didn’t understand what was going on. But of all the things he could have said, it had to be, “It’s snowing.”_

_White flakes appeared out of nowhere. The crowd went wild and music started playing from a set of speakers, a chorus of “Happy New Year’s” silenced by the locking of lips._

_Akaashi blinked then looked up, a snowflake falling on his nose and skiing down his skin. Then he looked back at Kenma, his heavy-lidded eyes a little more awake than usual, and said, “So it is.”_

_They didn’t say anything the rest of the night._

_Bokuto and Kuroo had decided at that moment that they were tired of being cold and that they wanted to head back to their dorm room because of… reasons. Kenma didn’t argue._

_Akaashi politely excused himself from walking back with them, saying he was tired and that he had a shift at the bookstore later that morning. Kenma was relieved, even though a part of him told him he shouldn’t be._

 

Kenma brought himself back to the present. He was in his room. His single room with no one else but himself and a pile of letters in his drawer. He tried to focus on that but it didn’t work. The memories kept coming back and every time they did he saw Akaashi’s face become more and more disappointed, upset, disgusted. 

_Stop it. You’re over thinking._

Kenma tried to let his mind go blank. That didn’t work so he imagined his computer screen instead. It was filled with files and files of everything he imagined had gone wrong over the last few weeks. His reaction to the kiss, how he didn’t go to the bookstore on Tuesday, the guilt he still felt over not telling Kuroo sooner, guilt, guilt, guilt. He took all of the bad thoughts and put them in one folder, everything he was worried about, and everything he was overthinking. Once the thoughts were in the file, he imagined dragging it over to the trashcan at the bottom of the screen. He could hear the soft scrunch of paper as he selected the “empty trash” option. It wouldn’t fix anything but for now it made his head a little less cluttered. 

That done, Kenma dug his nose into his pillow, praying his mind would just stay empty when a word popped up. 

Ace. 

Ace. Ace. Ace. 

_When he realised he was Ace._

Kenma quickly grabbed his phone before resuming his prior position, this time ducking under the covers to make an improvised tent. 

He opened the Google app on his phone and typed in the word “ace”. 

The sites that popped up included personal trainers and online shopping. Kenma highly doubted that was what Shouyou had meant. 

Blowing a tuft of hair out of his face, Kenma began to backspace when the option “ace meaning” popped up. 

It was worth a shot. 

He clicked on it. 

Definitions including playing cards and dice were the first to pop up along with an Urban Dictionary entry stating it meant “Excellent! Very good!” Again, that wasn’t exactly what Kenma was looking for. 

He exited out of Urban dictionary and scrolled to the bottom of the page, searching for anything that seemed applicable when the title “What is Asexuality: Am I Ace?” caught his eye. 

Kenma clicked on the link. 

The introduction was a little rough around the edges. The article was obviously aimed more towards younger teens. Kenma was about to exit out of the site when the next heading caught his attention. 

It read “What’s Asexuality?” 

Kenma started reading. 

Asexuality is a sexual orientation, like being straight or gay. When someone is straight, they're interested in people of a different gender. When someone is gay, they're into the same gender. But when someone is asexual, or "ace" as it's called, they're not really into anyone in that way. They simply don't experience sexual attraction. Asexuality isn't something that needs to be "fixed" or "cured", it's just a part of who you are. 

He immediately opened a new window, typing in the word asexuality. 

Sites popped up, explaining what it meant, the different categories on the spectrum. There were so many types. 

Asexual, Demisexual, Aromantic, Demiromantic, Graysexual, Asexual Panromantic, Asexual Demiromantic, Asexual Homoromantic, Asexual Heteromantic, Asexual Biromantic. 

Kenma read the descriptions of every single one of them. The more he read, the more he realised he didn’t know. So he kept researching, and researching, and researching. 

He stayed up all night researching. 

 

*** 

 

Akaashi was supposed to be re-organizing a new shipment of books but he couldn’t concentrate. And he most certainly did not feel like psyching himself up to climb the ladder this time round. Instead, he had his phone out. Until his year away with the orchestra, Akaashi hadn’t even owned a phone. Bokuto had insisted he get one so they could keep in touch, so Akaashi had. It was second hand, glitchy and not nearly as advanced as an iPhone, but it still did the job.

He opened up a new message, typing in Bokuto’s number by heart. 

 

**Akaashi: Could you ask Kuroo to check on Kenma for me?**

 

Akaashi immediately deleted that message. 

 

**Akaashi: Could I get Kuroo’s number?**

 

He deleted that one too. He didn’t want Bokuto to get the wrong idea. 

 

**Akaashi: Could I get Kenma-kun’s number, please? I need to ask him something.**

 

Better, but again, Bokuto might get the wrong idea.

Akaashi flipped his phone closed, chucking it on the cushion of his seat alongside his book. He couldn’t focus. This whole week he hadn’t been able to focus. He’d tried reading, playing the violin, even writing, but nothing worked. He couldn’t think. Or, rather, he could think, but of one thing only. Of one person only. 

He kept replaying the scene in his head. 

Kenma looking up at the clock, watching the seconds tick by. The year was coming to a close. People were pairing up, waiting to seal the deal with a kiss. He kept questioning himself, wondering if this was the right time, if Kenma would be okay with it… 

He leaned in and placed his lips softly on Kenma’s cheek. 

And then Kenma turned and gave him an indescribable look, eyes wide and unreadable. 

Immediately, he’d wanted to apologise. I’m sorry, he’d wanted to say, I shouldn’t have done that, I should have asked, I – but Kenma had beat him to it, stating it was snowing, as if those last few seconds had never happened. Akaashi still didn’t know whether he was relieved or disheartened.

They hadn’t spoken since then. 

When Tuesday came around, Akaashi had sat behind the counter with a speck of hope that a certain mop of blonde-brown hair would walk through the door. His shift ended after what felt like years of waiting with no sign of Kenma. Not on Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday. Friday came and went, and so did Saturday. Nothing. 

So now he was sitting here on a Sunday afternoon, wishing for the first time that he didn’t have to work at the bookstore, confused and worried and uncertain. 

He wanted to talk to Kenma, but he also wanted to give him his space. 

Akaashi ruffled his curls in frustration. He eyed his phone, hesitated, and then grabbed it. He flipped it open. His message was still there, waiting to be sent. He would have preferred to talk to Kenma in person, but perhaps this would make the first step easier? Akaashi had thought of walking to the University but he wouldn’t know where to start looking. He knew Kenma’s schedule like the back of his hand by now, but that didn’t mean he knew where any of his classes were. He could always ask Bokuto… 

The bell rang, signalling a customer and bringing Akaashi out of his thoughts. He flipped his phone closed and placed it on the counter, trying not to look too guilty. He looked up, about to welcome the customer and ask if he could help. 

Green met gold.

Kenma looked out of place, like he didn’t know where he was. He ducked his head, breaking eye contact with Akaashi and closing the door behind him with a soft click.

His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, some pieces of fringe framing his face. A scarf was wound tightly around his neck, mittens hiding his hands and a gigantic raincoat engulfing his small figure. He held Akaashi’s jacket under his arm. 

Ah. Akaashi had forgotten about that. He was so used to Kenma borrowing it, seeing him wearing it, Akaashi had forgotten that the jacket was actually his. 

“Hello, Kenma-kun,” Akaashi said quietly, inclining his head. 

Kenma returned the gesture but didn’t say a word. 

He stepped forward and then hesitated. Akaashi was about to step out from behind the counter, make things easier, but Kenma took a deep breath through his nose, releasing it slowly out of his mouth. He stepped forward once. Twice. Thrice. 

He was in front of Akaashi, the counter creating a boundary. But that was probably what Kenma needed right now. Akaashi stayed where he was. 

Kenma kept his gaze fixed on the counter. His nose twitched. 

Akaashi couldn’t help it. He smiled to himself, just a little, just for a second. And then it was gone. 

Kenma took Akaashi’s jacket out from under his arm and held it at arm’s length. 

Akaashi moved slowly, grasping the material and holding on tightly. Kenma let go, but Akaashi couldn’t move his arm. It just stayed there, suspended. 

Finally, he drew his arm back, taking his jacket along with it. He placed it on his chair, covering his book. 

“Akaashi.” 

Akaashi hesitated, looked over his shoulder. 

Kenma looked so lost, his eyes wide and unblinking, the golden rings shining in the mid-afternoon light. His mouth was parted, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. 

Akaashi turned to face Kenma fully. He walked over slowly to the counter, keeping a good amount of space between himself and Kenma. Kenma needed his space, and right now so did Akaashi. 

Akaashi nodded his head once, trying to communicate with his eyes. 

_Take your time. I’m listening. I’m willing to wait._

Kenma released a shuddering breath but kept his eyes firmly locked with Akaashi’s. 

“Akaashi, I don’t know how I feel right now because I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never had a person make me feel like this, I mean…” the words were slow and soft, contrasting heavily to the hardness of Kenma’s gaze. 

“For a while now, when I look at people together, couples, I feel strange. My stomach flips and I feel uncomfortable. I’ve always thought I was just overreacting. I did a bit of research and I –” He paused, taking another shuddering breath. “I don’t like the idea of being intimate with someone I don’t know. Someone I don’t have a significant connection with. I’ve always felt like that but I just never had a way to describe it. I still don’t know if I’m right but when you kissed me –” 

The hardness in Kenma’s eyes dropped, the golden rings melting at the mention of the kiss. Akaashi felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“When you kissed me,” Kenma continued, his voice softer, “I was shocked. I was scared because no one’s ever done that before. I’m sorry if my reaction made you feel uncomfortable.” Kenma bowed his head in apology. 

_I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe._

“I like spending time with you, Akaashi. I like knowing you. I don’t know if what we have can be something more because I’ve never wanted something more. I’m not used to this.” Kenma looked Akaashi from under his eyelashes, eyes heavy-lidded. Akaashi let out a slow breath. 

“I like spending time with you too,” Akaashi found himself saying. 

Kenma nodded. 

“I don’t really know how this works,” Kenma waved a hand in the air, indicating between them. Indicating them. 

“And obviously I’m assuming things because you kissed me. So please tell me if I’m wrong.” He paused, giving Akaashi the opportunity to speak up. He didn’t. Instead, he nodded his head, asking Kenma to continue. There was no point in denying what he’d meant with that kiss. 

Kenma continued after surveying Akaashi, double-checking that he was sure. “The reason why I was so shocked... It took me a bit of time to come to the conclusion that I – That I liked it,” Kenma’s cheeks flushed, pink littering his face and ears. It was the most endearing thing Akaashi had ever witnessed. 

“I hope that maybe in the future, whenever you’re ready, we could talk more about this. About us.” He waved his hand between them again, this time more certain.

Akaashi didn’t even hesitate. 

“I’d like that.” 

Kenma’s lips tilted, a barely there smile. His eyes shone. 

_I liked it._

“I’ll be going on my break soon, in the next hour, if you’d like to grab a cup of tea with me?” Akaashi didn’t know what he was doing, but perhaps that was the reason he felt butterflies in his stomach right now. He was nervous but excited, that feeling he got whenever he stood backstage before a performance. No one had ever made him feel like that. Except for Kenma. 

“I’d like that,” Kenma said after a while, his blush deepening. 

“Okay,” Akaashi murmured, not really knowing what else to say. 

“Would you mind if I stayed here until your break?” Kenma asked. As an afterthought, he added, “I’m in need of a new book.” 

“Of course.” 

Kenma smiled, this time letting it shine through. He walked over to the nearest bookshelf. His fingers traced the spines gently, his eyes darting as he read the titles.

Akaashi licked his lips and then turned to the stack of boxes that needed shelving. He had an hour to get this work done so he could go on his coffee date with Kenma. 

Date. 

He didn’t really know if it could be considered a date. But all the same, it was time spent with Kenma. They’d talk about this. About them. 

Akaashi took a deep breath, glanced once more at Kenma, and then turned to his task. 

Thank god he hadn’t sent that message to Bokuto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Website URL for the first site Kenma goes to: http://www.whatisasexuality.com/am-i-ace/teen/
> 
>  
> 
> I might not post for a while. I've got a lot of things going on right now. I am going to continue with this fic, I do plan on finishing it this year. I just need to take some time for myself right now. I'm sorry, I hope you can understand and I hope you liked the chapter. I wanted to leave it on a good note.
> 
> UPDATE
> 
> So I've been meaning to re-write this chapter a bit because it was very rough and I felt like I'd overwritten and/or underwritten certain parts. Long story short, I needed to edit this before I could continue writing the next chapter which I'm starting this very moment. If all goes well it might be up by this Sunday, but no promises.
> 
> Again, thank you for the support and sorry for the long wait, but I promise it'll be worth it x


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi and Kenma have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the radio silence. I've missed writing so so much and I'm really happy I was able to make myself sit down and get through this chapter!
> 
> It's long and it's slightly angsty (I think?) but it's also cute and filled with too many blushes and smiles so yeah, I hope you enjoy x

Kenma gulped at his tea, the hot liquid burning his tongue. He tried desperately not to stare at Akaashi over the brim of his cup.

After Akaashi’s shift, the two had locked up the shop and went to the nearest coffee shop, Kenma with a new book under his arm and Akaashi with a soft crinkle in the corners of his eyes. 

It was a Sunday, so the shop wasn’t too crowded, people opting to spend the day in bed more likely. It’s what Kenma would have done. 

Kenma risked a look at Akaashi. He was sitting calmly, a mug of coffee in hand, the other resting on the table and tapping a tune. It sounded similar to the song he’d played for Kenma at his apartment, the “work in progress”. 

Akaashi’s eyes flickered to Kenma. Kenma ducked his head.

They’d been sitting there for a good twenty minutes, and Kenma hadn’t said a word. 

He felt drained after his speech in the bookstore. He’d never spoken that much in one go, not even for his presentations back in high school. Once he’d gotten the ball rolling, though, the words had just spilt out of him, like a tap that refused to be sealed shut. He couldn’t stop rambling. He’d just kept going and going, trying to make sense of what he was saying while explaining to Akaashi everything that he’d been thinking about. It was both so hard and so easy at the same time. Kenma didn’t even think that was logically possible. 

Akaashi fiddled with the napkin on his saucer, his mouth pursing a little as if he wanted to say something but was swallowing the words. 

_He’s waiting for me to start._

Kenma drained his cup and poured some more tea from the pot, biding his time. Finally, after setting the teapot back down, he cleared his throat. 

“You said you did some research,” Akaashi said, interrupting him.

Kenma sighed in relief. 

“Yes,” he said, glad to finally have a conversation going. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what all did you find out?” Akaashi asked quietly, a soft whisper that only they could hear. 

“A friend of mine mentioned something about being Ace. I didn’t know exactly what that meant so, I researched it.” Kenma picked up his tea, took a sip. By now he didn’t care if he burnt his tongue or not. “It was hard, to find the right information at first, but I finally found a site which lead to another site, which lead to another…” 

“And you identified?” Akaashi prompted.

“A little, yes,” Kenma confessed. “I just, I always thought I just hadn’t met anyone right, that when I met that someone those kinds of... feelings would magically appear. Like an on switch or something." Kenma felt tired. He was speaking so much his throat felt sore. But he'd promised to talk to Akaashi. He wanted to try and explain. "But, like I said, when I see couples it makes me feel..."

"Uncomfortable?" Akaashi asked, trying to fill in the blank.

"It's not that I think it's wrong. I know it's not wrong. The way Bokuto and Kuroo look at each other or Suga and Daichi. I don't know what that feels like, to be like that. But I'm sure it's special for them."

Akaashi nodded, prompting Kenma to go on. 

"I just… When I read about Asexuality it just made sense. It felt like the words were explaining me. I know that probably doesn't make sense. People are supposed to want to that sort of thing, to be intimate like that. But, I can't imagine myself like that. Not with a stranger. Not unless I know I can trust that person, I mean -" Kenma scoffed at himself. He’d only researched this the night before. How did expect to explain this all to Akaashi? 

“I understand that much,” Akaashi said, breaking Kenma’s train of thought. 

Kenma looked up in question. Akaashi smiled and continued, “I never felt for anyone either. I never really cared for how people looked. I never had a crush or strong feelings for anyone until I met Bokuto.”

That took Kenma aback. 

Akaashi’s smile softened.

“I was wary of him when I first met him. He was even more boisterous back then if that’s even possible,” Akaashi chuckled. “He made friends so easily, could talk to anyone and act as if they’d known each other for years. And yet he chose me. Wouldn’t leave me alone until I promised to toss to him in Volleyball practice.”

Kenma smiled. It reminded him of Shouyou. 

“In my first year of high school, I got to know Bokuto. Not just the energetic kid who loved volleyball, but also the softer side of him. Why he chose me of all people, I still don’t know. But he did. And, as I grew more familiar with him, I started noticing things. Small things…” Akaashi trailed off, ducking his gaze. His fingers wove together, resting on the edge of the table. Over the last few months, Kenma had picked up on the little things. How Akaashi had the habit of playing with his fingers when he was nervous, how his eyes crinkled when he was smiling on the inside, how his eyes lit up when he was talking about something he loved, and how they dulled when he talked about something he didn’t. Was that what he meant by noticing the small things?

“I realised how much I liked his hair, even though it was ridiculous. I realised he had a chip in his tooth and that he touched it with his tongue when he was bored. How big his hands were, how callused. Little things that became endearing.”

Kenma had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Kenma said, wanting to reassure Akaashi. He knew what it felt like to be forced to speak when he’d rather be quiet. 

“It’s okay, you deserve to know. And besides, I need to get this off my chest, if you're okay with me speaking so openly?” Akaashi asked. Even when he was baring himself he still asked Kenma for his consent. Kenma could feel his chest tighten, just slightly. 

He nodded.

“I guess you’ve guessed where that lead to?”

Kenma nodded again.

Akaashi's smile turned sad.

“I do love Bokuto. I always have since we started to learn more about each other, and I always will. Just not like that. Not anymore.”

Kenma tried to imagine a young Akaashi and Bokuto, tried to see how it could work. By what he’d seen when they were together, Akaashi was fairly comfortable around Bokuto, letting the excitable man jump on his back or tug him by the hand. Akaashi was willing to embrace his friend longer than what was expected of him. Bokuto had even kissed Akaashi on the cheek once, catching Akaashi off guard and causing him to blush furiously. And yet Kenma couldn’t imagine that going further, couldn’t imagine anyone with Bokuto except Kuroo. He was probably biased towards the couple and yet he saw that Akaashi understood. He saw what Kenma saw. 

“Does he know?” Kenma found himself asking, taking another sip of his tea. It had cooled considerably, not that it mattered. 

“No.”

Kenma nearly dropped his cup. 

“I probably should have said something but by the time I had convinced myself to, he’d moved to University and I still had my final year of high school to get through. It was a bit of a catch twenty-two. If I told him, I’d risk losing him as a friend. If I didn’t the guilt might have eaten me up.” 

“But you didn’t. You didn't tell him."

“No, I didn’t. I figured what was one more year if it meant maintaining our friendship? And besides, Bokuto wouldn’t shut up about his roommate.” Akaashi gave a rueful smile. “Around that time I got an offer from the orchestra I toured with last year. It was a hard decision to make, it could put me back in terms of a higher education but it also meant experiencing what it would mean to be in a real, professional orchestra. So, I took them up their offer. And I think I was right to do so. It gave me some time away from Bokuto, gave me something to occupy my mind instead, like my music and what my career could be like.”

Kenma remained quiet for a while, his tea forgotten. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out how to phrase his next question. 

“You said… you said that you’ll always love him.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes. And I mean that sincerely,” Akaashi said, matter-of-fact.

Kenma’s heart stuttered. He bit his lip, not caring that he was being obvious.

“But you also said that you don’t. Not like that…”

“There’s more than one type of love, Kenma-san. I’m sure you of all people know that," said Akaashi, not unkindly.

Kenma looked up again to find Akaashi smiling. He continued, “The way you and Kuroo interact. It’s more than just a friendship, wouldn’t you say?”

Kenma thought on that. He’d never really considered Kuroo as anything else but his friend. Yes, he knew he was attractive but that was only because people were always fawning over him in high school. If Kenma hadn’t been present for all of that, he never would have noticed anything physical about Kuroo. And yet there was an intimacy between them. The way Kuroo would sling his arm around his shoulder or cuddle him when he was cold. How he’d help Kenma put his jacket on and hug him from behind. Was that not what friends did? Kenma had never really had anything else to compare his friendship with Kuroo to, so he'd just assumed that that was the norm.

“I don’t know,” Kenma said, honestly. 

Akaashi’s smile softened. 

“Did you know that the Greeks believed in multiple types of love?”

Kenma shook his head, his fringe tickling his nose. He wrinkled it in irritation before tucking the loose strands of hair behind his ear. 

Akaashi’s cheeks turned red. He cleared his throat, ducked his head a moment.

Kenma didn’t say anything.

“Um, there were a lot of types but the four main ones were Eros, Philia, Agape and Philautia,” Akaashi continued, his cheeks slowly fading back to his natural skin tone.

“Eros was considered sexual love. Lust, really. Agape, on the other hand, was selfless love, the giving of yourself to help others,” his fingers began to twist and turn again. It reminded Kenma of the worms Kuroo used to dig for in his back garden. Kenma never understood what Kuroo found so fascinating about the little pink streaks. What he did know was that he didn’t like seeing Akaashi this way. Nervous, unsure of himself. Kenma reached over, placing light fingers on the back of Akaashi’s hand. It was a moment only, just a little reminder. Akaashi’s fingers stopped. Kenma took his hand back. Akaashi paused a moment, pulled his hands apart slowly and laid them flat on the table instead. He looked up at Kenma, confusion clouding his eyes. Then it was gone, and he was talking again as if nothing had happened.

“Philautia was the love of the self. That could either be narcissism or self-confidence, depending on the person.” Akaashi’s hands moved to his lap, sliding off the edge of the table like ships over a waterfall. “Philia, however, was considered one of the strongest types of love, more so than Eros or even Agape. It’s the idea that two people, whether it is in friendship or something more, cared for one another. They showed each other love in everything that they did, even if their love was not romantically inclined.”

Kenma wanted to ask where Akaashi was going with this. Was he trying to tell him something indirectly? He was about to ask when Akaashi interrupted him.

“It’s what I consider my friendship with Bokuto. It’s also how I see your and Kuroo’s friendship.” Akaashi ducked his head, but he was unable to hide the blush creeping up his neck. Kenma found his own cheeks reddening. He turned his gaze away. 

“So, you love Bokuto, like how I love Kuroo?”

Akaashi blinked, turning his gaze back to Kenma. 

“Yes.”

“And… what about me?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. It feels like… it feels like something more than that, but at the same time, I can’t define it. It’s hard, to define something so substantial, with just words. If that makes sense?”

_Substantial. He thinks we’re substantial._

“I –”

“But I don’t want to pressure you,” Akaashi added quickly. “From what you’ve told me you’re still processing how you feel about relationships. Which is perfectly fine, in my opinion. If you want to stay friends, I’ll fully support that.” Akaashi's blush had deepened, spreading all the way to his ears. Kenma tried very hard to hide his smile. He didn’t really think he was successful, though. 

Akaashi waited for Kenma to say something. Kenma didn’t have anything to say, not to that. Tentatively, softly, Akaashi continued. “If you want to try to be something more than that then I’ll also fully support that decision.”

His blush was deepening by the second. Kenma wondered how long it would take before Akaashi was completely red. 

“I care about you very much, Kenma,” Akaashi whispered. 

Kenma took a deep breath, tried to quiet the noise buzzing in his head. This was a lot to take in over a cup of tea. Akaashi looked so sincere, his face void of any malice. It was just soft. He waited for Kenma, patiently. 

He was always so patient. 

Green met gold. 

“I care about you too, Akaashi.”

***

Akaashi thought he might melt. His blush was refusing to go down. As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough that he’d talked about his crush on Bokuto, now he’d also said all of that as well. Had told Kenma how he felt. His fingers tangled in his lap, the idea of scaring Kenma off setting alarms off in his head. 

He waited, letting the weight of his words sink in. To be honest, if he was in Kenma’s place, he’d also be taking his time. He’d want to say the right thing, especially if it meant disappointing his friend. 

He expected Kenma to tell him that while he appreciated the sentiment, he wasn’t looking for a relationship. At least, not with him. And Akaashi would understand. He knew what it meant to try and muddle through his sexuality, what it meant to not be able to talk to anyone about it. Like Kenma, he’d researched and researched, reading nearly every article he could find in order to better understand his feelings towards Bokuto. Towards the idea of a relationship. 

He knew that he would feel uncomfortable kissing a random stranger he met at a bar. He knew he would never be able to shake the guilt of having a one-night stand, even though more than half of the orchestra had done so during their travels, bragging about it the next morning as if it were something to be proud of. As if it were the norm. He just didn’t see the point. Wasn’t being intimate supposed to be shared with someone special? Someone you knew just as well, if not better than you knew yourself? 

That’s why when he’d found out about Demisexuality, he’d breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t the only one to think that. He wasn’t the only one who thought he should know the person before they even considered anything intimate. It just… it made more sense. 

So he knew that if Kenma did reject him, ask him to just be friends, he would understand. They’d only known each other a few months. He knew nothing about Kenma’s childhood except for the little snippets of his mother he’d willingly given. And he hadn’t divulged in any information himself. They’d only just started to become familiar with each other, comfortable with each other. And Akaashi wanted to know everything. He wanted to ask Kenma stupid questions and important ones, see what he was like when he was a bit more comfortable around Akaashi. But he wasn't going to push Kenma into becoming something more, not unless Kenma wanted it too.

He didn’t even know what something more would entail. He just knew they needed to talk about this. Whether Kenma chose to just be his friend or something more, they needed to talk. Kenma needed to know that Akaashi would support him either way. 

So when Kenma said that he cared about Akaashi as well, he couldn't help it. He slumped back in his seat, his head knocking the metal backrest. 

“Akaashi, are you okay?” Kenma asked, half out of his seat.

Akaashi waved a hand and sat upright, his head throbbing a little at the back. He touched a hand to his hairline. There didn’t seem to be any blood although there'd probably be a bruise there tomorrow morning.

“It’s alright. I think I’ll live,” he said, giving what he hoped was an assuring smile. 

Kenma raised a quizzical brow, giving him a look that said, _I know you’re lying but I’ll go with it anyway_ , before sitting back down. 

They sat there, neither saying anything. Akaashi rubbed the back of his head. He could already feel the bump beginning to form. 

“I don’t really know what else to say,” Kenma whispered, fidgeting with the handle of his teacup. By now both of their drinks were probably cold. 

“Neither do I,” Akaashi admitted. What Kenma had said, it wasn’t really an answer. Akaashi wanted to ask him to elaborate, to explain what was going on in his head. Kenma beat him to it though.

“If you’d like,” Kenma said, his words barely above a murmur, “we could maybe try and see how this goes."

_This. Does he mean us?_

“If we were to… get to know each other a little better?” Kenma continued, biting his lip. A blush just barely dusted his nose. Akaashi smiled.

“I’d like that,” Akaashi said, finally. "And I want you to know that we can go at whatever pace you feel most comfortable with. I don’t want you forcing yourself to do something you don’t want to, just because you think I might want that. And the option to stop is always open, if, later on, you realise that this,” Akaashi indicated between them, “isn’t something you want.”

Kenma blinked, frozen on the spot. For a second, Akaashi thought he’d said too much again, that he’d talked too quickly, moved too quickly when Kenma spoke up.

“That applies to you too, you know.”

Akaashi furrowed his brow, confused. “Sorry?”

“If you ever feel uncomfortable with something I do, you must tell me, and I’ll stop. And if you feel like this isn’t working, then you can tell me that too. And I’ll stop.”

Akaashi’s stomach coiled. He could hear the unsteady beat of his heart in the shell of his ear. He didn’t have any experience with relationships, not anything beyond having an unrequited crush. And Kenma knew that now. And Akaashi knew Kenma was kind, Kenma was… well, he was Kenma. He was sweet but could also be sassy and witty. He was shy and yet unafraid to give his honest opinion. He was quiet around large groups of people and yet the way he had laughed that one time Kuroo had walked into a lamppost while he was texting Bokuto… it was probably the most charming thing Akaashi had ever witnessed. But this. This was something different. This was something he didn’t have experience in. Someone saying that they were willing to go at his pace, to stop when he asked them to. Someone giving him the option to back out if he ever felt uncomfortable. He felt an ache in his chest and a lump in his throat and tried so hard to not let it show. He swallowed hard and flexed his fingers because he realised too late that he was gripping the arms of his chair like his life depended on it. He didn’t want Kenma to see that. He didn’t want it to affect his choice. But Kenma had seen and by the look Kenma gave him, he was... amused of all things. It was that soft, knowing smile. The one that said, _I see you._

“Would you like to go to dinner sometime, Kenma?”

Kenma paused, tapping a finger to his chin in thought before saying, “That would be nice." His eyes glinted.

Akaashi nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“Will you be performing tonight?” Kenma asked.

“Uh, yes, if the weather stays good?”

“Okay, maybe I could come watch and then we could go to dinner after?”

“Like we usually do?” Akaashi asked, his shoulders losing their tension at the sound of something so familiar. Of what had become routine.

“If that’s okay?” Kenma asked, the glint in his eyes turning into something more. That rare hint of mischief he got when something went his way. 

“Of course it is,” Akaashi said. He felt his eyes crinkle as a smile spread from one corner to the other. 

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the normal time then?” Kenma asked, taking a sip of his tea and then pulling a face when he realised it was cold. 

Akaashi’s smile broadened.

“Hm, around seven most likely. Just make sure you dress warmly.”

“Then you might need to bring that jacket of yours,” Kenma mumbled, ducking his head. And there was that shyness again, the mischievous glint gone. Akaashi could just see a blush blooming across the bridge of Kenma's nose. 

“Of course,” he murmured. His chest fluttered with the promise of tonight, of having Kenma watch him perform like he usually did and join him for dinner after as was per their routine. 

The familiarity of it, of their little routine, made Akaashi's eyes crinkle so much they almost fell shut. 

He picked up his now cold cup of coffee and finished it off, letting the bitter taste slosh onto his tongue. He couldn't help the smile that spread around the brim of his cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm going back and re-reading what I've written so far. I'm mainly fixing spelling and/or grammar mistakes but I also might rephrase one or two sentences. There won't be any major changes as far as I know, and if there is I'll let you guys know. Otherwise, thank you for reading and being patient with me xx


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shouyou and Kenma meet up again for the first time since their volleyball match back in high school, Kuroo and Bokuto are up to their usual antics and Akaashi and Kenma become a little more comfortable with their _something more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy and smile just as much as I did when writing this chapter.

Akaashi saw only a flash of orange before Kenma was tackled to the floor with a loud resounding screech that somewhat resembled Kenma's name.

Kenma fell with a small “oof!” Akaashi could just hear Kenma’s muffled voice from underneath the bundle of black and orange. “Shouyou, I can’t breathe.”

Shouyou rolled off Kenma and jumped up, pulling Kenma along with him. He was fairly short, with a wild mane of orange curls and big amber eyes. He could have been a first year. 

“Sorry Kenma! Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Shouyou asked, rapid-fire.

“I’m fine Shouyou,” Kenma mumbled, although he had the tiniest of smiles. It was filled with so much fondness Akaashi could feel it thump in his own chest. 

Kenma had told Akaashi about Shouyou. Apparently, they'd met through a pen pals program and still wrote to each other almost weekly. Kenma’s eyes lit up whenever he mentioned his long-distance friend the same way when he talked about his favourite books or video games. It made Akaashi smile every time. 

While Kenma and Shouyou caught up with one another, Akaashi kept himself occupied by looking around the court. It felt so familiar, sneakers squeaking on the hard-wood floors, the rumbling of the crowd outside, bodies buzzing with anticipation. He could feel a surge of energy rush through him, getting ready to serve even though he hadn’t played volleyball in over a year. He could still feel the smooth surface of a volleyball under his fingertips.

Akaashi felt two fingers lightly tap his wrist, bringing him back to the conversation. He turned to find both Kenma and Shouyou staring at him.

“Sumimasen,” Akaashi said, inclining his head towards Shouyou, “my mind escaped me for a moment.”

“It’s okay!” Shouyou said. “I don’t blame you.”

Akaashi tilted his head in question.

Shouyou smiled. “You used to play volleyball, didn’t you?” 

Taken aback, all Akaashi could do was nod his head. 

Shouyou’s smile broadened. “I could tell the way you were standing. You looked ready to serve. I’m Hinata Shouyou by the way, but you can just call me Shouyou,” he said, offering his hand to Akaashi. Akaashi took it, giving it a firm shake. “Akaashi Keiji.” 

Shouyou’s jaw dropped, his mouth making a perfect O.

“You’re Akaashi?” he turned to Kenma. “He’s Akaashi?” 

Kenma hummed, his eyes darting to Akaashi’s. Akaashi knew in that instant that a bomb had just been dropped. 

“You’re _the_ Akaashi?” Shouyou said in awe.

“Yes?” Akaashi said, raising a brow at Kenma. Kenma, however, decided at that exact moment that the floor was far more interesting to look at. 

“Kenma’s told me all about you! Do you really play the violin?”

Akaashi chuckled at Shouyou’s childlike enthusiasm. It reminded him of Bokutu. 

“Yes, I do. Not as well as I’d like, though.”

“You play beautifully!” Kenma spluttered. His ears turned pink, his eyes widening in shock at his own words.

Akaashi smiled so much on the inside he felt as if he were about to burst. 

He kept his eyes firmly locked with Kenma’s, just for a moment, before stealing a glance at Shouyou. He managed to catch a glint of mischief in Shouyou’s smile. 

Akaashi was about to change the subject, anything to direct the attention away from Kenma when he felt someone slam into his back, firm arms embracing him. He was lifted off his feet.

“Akaashi!”

“Hello, Bokuto,” Akaashi chuckled, turning his head to see Bokuto better. He got a kiss on the cheek in return before being released. 

“It feels like forever since we last saw each other, Akaashi!” Bokuto said, giving Akaashi another quick squeeze. 

“You saw me yesterday, Bokuto,” Akaashi said, trying to keep his voice at an even tone. It was a little difficult with a six-foot Bokuto clinging to him. 

“I know, but still!” 

“Hello, chibi-chan!” Akaashi didn’t need to turn his head to know that Kuroo was behind him, his cat-like grin already in place. 

“Kuroo!” Shouyou whined as he was pulled into a headlock. Kuroo rubbed his hand through Shouyou’s hair, making his curls stand up in all directions. 

“Nice to see you too!” Kuroo cackled before letting Shouyou go. 

Shouyou mumbled under his breath, trying to smooth down his unruly hair. It wasn’t working. 

“How’s Kageyama doing eh? Keeping you in line?” Kuroo asked, coolly swinging an arm around Bokuto’s waist. Akaashi’s stomach gave a quick churn. He’d told Kenma about Bokuto, how he’d always feel connected to his friend. Seeing Bokuto so openly affectionate with Kuroo, it did hurt a little. Akaashi chose to look at Kenma rather. Kenma was a safe space. His head was ducked again although his hair was tied up into two small buns on top of his head, leaving him no fringe to hide behind. 

A flash of discomfort crossed Kenma’s eyes. 

_Ah, so he’s feeling it too._

Akaashi’s weight shifted forward. He wanted to go to Kenma’s side, give him some sort of comfort. Shouyou beat him to it though, touching his shoulder lightly to Kenma’s. Kenma looked up and gave Shouyou a grateful smile. Shouyou grinned back at him before catching Akaashi’s eye. He gave a slight nod and a knowing smile. 

Akaashi inclined his head in return.

_Thank you._

“BAKA!”

Shouyou turned his head just in time to receive a face full of volleyball. It smacked him directly on the nose.

A raven-haired man stormed towards Shouyou. He was wearing the same black and orange uniform as Shouyou with the number nine on the back of his shirt. He stood toe-to-toe with Shouyou, glaring down at his teammate. 

“Baka-Kageyama! Why do you always have to do that?” Shouyou whined, wrinkling his nose before squinting up at the man. Shouyou was a good head shorter than his teammate, but that didn’t make his glare any less intimidating. 

“Because it works every time,” the man growled before turning his gaze to the rest of the group. His malice simmered down to a glower as he inclined his head, introducing himself as Kageyama Tobio. Akaashi bowed his head in greeting. Bokuto had a friendlier approach, embracing Kageyama in a spine-cracking hug and leaving him a little unsure on his feet. Bokuto laughed with mirth. 

Kuroo stayed where he was. He nodded in acknowledgement, giving Kageyama a wicked smile. 

“Ready to get your serves blocked?” he asked.

“In your dreams,” Kageyama replied, a devilish smile splitting his face. Kageyama meant business.

“Ah! Kuroo!” Bukoto said, looking back at the rest of their team. “We’ve gotta start warming up!” He didn’t wait for Kuroo to reply, already pulling him half way across the court. 

Kuroo allowed himself to be hauled after Bokuto. He spared a glance over his shoulder yelling, “See you on the court chibi-chan! And say hi to Tsukki for me!”

Shouyou gave a thumbs up before turning back to Kenma. 

“I guess that means we need to start warming up as well. See you afterwards?”

Kenma hummed in agreement, giving a warm smile. “Good luck. Jump extra high for me.”

“I’ll do even better than that. I’ll fly!” Shouyou said, practically glowing.

“Come on, baka,” Kageyama grumbled, tugging Shouyou by his shirt collar.

Akaashi and Kenma watched as the two walked off, Kageyama steadfast and sturdy while Shouyou’s feet were practically dragging like cinderblocks. Their bickering could be heard all the way across the court.

“Funny,” Kenma said.

“What is?” Akaashi asked.

“You’d think, after all these years, they might have matured a little. Then again, I think Shouyou will always be young at heart.”

“I think the same of Bokuto. Even when he’s old and naturally grey, I suspect he and Kuroo will still be getting up to mischief,” Akaashi chuckled.

“Do you think they’ll still be together after all that time?” Akaashi met Kenma’s eyes and saw such earnestness. It was a little disorientating and yet, so Kenma. 

“To be honest, I don’t think it’s my place to say,” Akaashi said. He looked back to where Kuroo and Bokuto were warming up. They seemed serious enough until Bokuto tripped Kuroo, resulting in a tripping contest/wrestling match. Their coach had to separate them, waving his clipboard about. Akaashi could easily see the matching ear-to-ear grins on the couple’s faces.

Akaashi continued, “If I had to guess, though, I’d say there is no plausible universe where those two don’t end up together.”

Kenma was silent. His brows scrunched together in thought, his lips pursed. Akaashi waited. 

“I suppose,” Kenma said, “that that is a fairly honest observation.” He smiled. Akaashi smiled back.

“Should we go find some seats?” Akaashi asked. Kenma hummed in agreement.

Akaashi would never say this out loud, but he was thankful. He was thankful that after their coffee date, his and Kenma’s relationship had not changed. They were still quiet and considerate around each other, always talking with their eyes when words didn’t work. But then there were also the little things. Little signs that Kenma was becoming more comfortable with Akaashi. Like the touching of his wrist. The first it had happened was at the coffee shop, a reminder from Kenma to breathe, focus, relax because _you’re okay, you’re safe with me._ It didn’t happen often, but when it did it made Akaashi’s chest swell to full capacity. It was a sign that they were okay, that they were safe with each other. They didn’t need to use words to acknowledge that their relationship was slowly tipping towards something more.

So if their hands brushed a little as they walked up the stadium steps, Akaashi didn’t say anything about it. Neither when their knees knocked once they finally found two open seats, nor when Kenma’s warmth slowly bloomed through their shoulders into Akaashi’s chest. He didn’t say anything but rather cherished the moments for what they were: the start of something. 

 

***

 

“And then I was like, GWAAAH! And Bokuto, you were all PSHAAAW!” 

“I know and then I went PACHOW!” 

Kenma shook his head, allowing a few pieces of his fringe to fly free. Shouyou and Bokuto were two bouncing balls of adrenaline, making a right racket in the corner of their booth. Thankfully, so late at night, the restaurant was mostly empty. Suga didn’t seem to mind about the noise either, speaking over Shouyou’s sound effects as if it were nothing. 

Kenma knew what he wanted to order, but he didn’t want to have to compete with his friends’ shouting. He was considering asking Suga for a pen and paper so he could just write it out when Akaashi said, “Apple pie with water, and a bowl of nanohana no karashiae please.” Suga wrote down the order, managing to get Bokuto and Shouyou to quiet down long enough to get their order in as well before walking off to the kitchen. 

Akaashi gave Kenma a soft smile before turning back to his conversation with Kageyama. 

Kenma felt the tips of his ears burn, his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears. It was nothing to get excited about, he was predictable when it came to food. And yet.

He looked at Akaashi’s profile, head cradled in hand as he argued plays with Kageyama. They seemed to be disagreeing on some or other set up. Kenma could probably add something to the conversation but he didn’t feel like getting into an argument. Kenma could feel Kageyama’s restless energy from across the table, how he might internally combust if he wasn’t proven right. Akaashi, however, was calm and collected. His eyes were heavy-lidded as usual, blinking slowly as if he were about to fall asleep. (That was never the case, though.) His hair was in ordered chaos, the curls framing his face perfectly, with a few stray strands sticking up at the back. Kenma wanted to reach out and brush his fingers through the unruly curls. Instead, he gripped his knees, bundling his leggings up so tightly they would probably leave wrinkles. 

“Kenma-kun?”

Kenma looked up. Akaashi was looking at him, his eyes a little more awake than usual. “Are you alright?”

Kenma nodded furiously. Akaashi raised a quizzical brow. _Are you sure?_

“Your hair,” Kenma said, the words slipping out from under his tongue. That was the second time it had happened that night. He could still feel the blush from his little outburst about Akaashi’s violin playing. He didn’t know what Akaashi was thinking, saying he wasn’t good. He’d sounded so candid as if he actually believed it. Akaashi had to know how good he was, how mesmerizing his playing could be. 

“My hair?” Akaashi reached up, about to run his hands through his hair.

Kenma tugged at Akaashi’s sleeve, pulling his hand away. “No, I like it.”

Akaashi blinked. Then blinked again. “You do?”

Kenma nodded. “It’s pretty like that.” Where was this courage coming from? He wanted to dash out the front door, run all the way back to his dorm room and hide under his bed for the rest of eternity. At the same time, though, he wanted to stay, to see Akaashi’s reaction. 

It had been two weeks since their coffee/tea date (Kenma still had to remind himself that yes, it was, in fact, a date, very much a date). Akaashi hadn’t pushed or prodded since then. In fact, much was the same. Kenma attended his classes, meeting up with Kuroo and Bokuto when he could. When he’d woken up on Tuesday he went down to the student café and ordered his usual, much to Lev’s dismay. 

“Kenma! Why don’t you order something easier?” Lev said with an exaggerated pout. “Then I could actually make it for you!”

“No ways,” Yaku said, arms crossed tightly across his small chest. “The day you make a chai latte is the day I die.”

Lev looked at the coffee machine, then Yaku, then back and forth again and again. Yaku seemed to read his mind for when Lev jumped for the machine Yaku was already there, mop in hand. He swooped it down in a large arc, taking Lev’s feet out from under him. He crashed to the floor with a loud, _WHUMP!_

Yaku cackled. “Nice try baka-Lev, but you can’t get rid of me that easy!” 

“I was reaching for the napkins, Yaku-senpai!”

“Like hell you were!”

Suffice to say, Lev and Yaku were up to their usual antics. Kenma eventually got his order from Yaku along with a coffee for Akaashi. He stirred in two sugars before pouring it in a thermos so it wouldn’t go cold. The look on Akaashi’s face when Kenma had handed him the thermos was… unreadable. For a second, Kenma had thought he’d done the wrong thing, was about to take the thermos back when Akaashi unscrewed the lid and sniffed the contents. He tried to hide a barely-there smile behind the rim of the thermos but Kenma saw it all the same.

Akaashi poured himself a cup, blowing on the hot liquid before taking a tentative sip. Again, a barely-there smile.

“Thank you, Kenma-kun,” he murmured, taking another sip. “I really needed this.”

Kenma nodded then turned his attention to a stack of books.

Kenma hung around the book store for the rest of the afternoon, riffling through the new books and some of Akaashi’s favourites. They’d talk sometimes or otherwise sit in a comfortable silence. At one point, Kenma was sitting on the writing desk that acted as a check-out counter, absorbed in a book of short stories when Akaashi lightly tapped Kenma’s knee. 

“I need to open the drawer,” he said quietly.

“Sumimasen,” Kenma mumbled, still focused on his book as he swung his legs to the side. 

Akaashi opened the drawer, digging elbow deep until he found what he was looking for. He closed the drawer with a quiet _click_. 

Kenma felt a hand settle lightly against his calf. Akaashi led Kenma’s legs back to where they were. His hand lingered a moment. Then, it was gone. 

It was one of many small touches. The knocking of knees or the brushing of fingers as they walked shoulder to shoulder down to the square where Akaashi would perform. It was the little things that only they knew to look for, things Kenma hoarded with fascination, like a rare flower that only bloomed one day of the year. It was those moments that reminded Kenma that yes, there was something more, that _they_ were something more, and that Akaashi was more than willing to take it at Kenma’s pace.

Kenma blinked, and he was back in the restaurant, surrounded by his rowdy friends. 

“Thank you,” Akaashi said. And there was that smile. A new one, softer than anything Kenma had ever seen. Softer than the looks Kuroo stole when Bokuto wasn’t looking. Softer than Suga’s chuckle when Daichi said something funny. Softer than the look that enveloped his mother’s eyes when she spoke of his father before the incident. 

Kenma gave himself a little shake, focusing on his surroundings, on the noise and the smell of egg noodles and beer. He swallowed thickly as Akaashi looked at him, his head tilted slightly to the side, eyes inquisitive. 

He leaned in, just a little. “But my hair always looks like this,” Akaashi said, voice barely above a whisper.

Kenma could feel the word bubbling at the back of his throat. Akaashi’s eyes glinted a spot of mischief and something unrecognizable hidden there. 

“Exactly,” Kenma said, softly, just for the two of them. 

Akaashi faltered, his mouth parting slightly in surprise. And then it happened. He smiled that smile, the soft, gentle smile made only for stolen moments in second-hand bookstores. 

Akaashi looked down, then looked up at Kenma through his eyelashes. “I don’t really know what to say.”

Kenma shrugged. “Then don’t say anything.”

Akaashi went still then Kenma felt two fingers glide across the back of his hand, feather-light, barely there. Akaashi tilted his head again in question. Kenma remembered New Years, Akaashi offering his hands while Kenma adjusted to being on the ice. He remembered how it didn’t feel right, touching palm to palm. Too intimate, something meant for couples only. He wondered if now perhaps he’d feel differently. Slowly, Kenma turned his hand palm up, intertwining their fingers. His fingers shook. Kenma waited for his stomach to sink, for that uncomfortable feeling to settle at the back of his throat. It didn’t come.

Akaashi tilted his head. _Is this okay?_

Kenma gave one small, brisk nod, the corner of his mouth begging to break into a smile. _Yes, it’s okay._

Kuroo managed to grab Akaashi’s attention, bringing him back into the conversation. Akaashi would make a comment every once in a while, however, his attention was elsewhere. He’d look over his shoulder, checking in. Each time Kenma squeezed his hand in reply. _Yes, yes, yes._

Kenma felt a foot tap his shin. He looked up to find Shouyou directing a cheeky grin his way. When no one else was looking, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Kenma blushed, and ignored his friend, although they both knew it was in good spirit. 

When the food arrived, Akaashi gently unwound his fingers from Kenma’s, although he pressed two fingers to the center of Kenma’s palm, a barely-there kiss of skin on skin, before taking his hand away entirely. 

Kenma shivered so visibly Kuroo asked if he was cold. 

Kenma shook his head no, stuffing his mouth full of apple pie before his friend could ask any more questions. Kenma felt as if his face was on fire, his blush slowly, far too slowly, fading throughout the rest of the meal. 

 

***

 

They filed out of the restaurant, Suga shooing them out with a fond smile. “I’ve had enough of you lot for one night, time for bed!” 

No one took him seriously, not even Suga himself.

Kuroo offered his arm to Bokuto who took it gladly. “What time do you need to be back at the hotel, chibi-chan?”

“I am not a shrimp!” Shouyou grumbled. “And ten.”

Kuroo checked his phone. “Well it’s a half past nine, so we best hit the road now if you want to make it on time.”

Shouyou whined. “But this is so fun! And I haven’t heard Akaashi play the violin yet!”

“Shouyou,” Kenma muttered warningly. 

“I think my classical violin is still in the bookshop,” Akaashi said. Everyone came to a stand-still. Akaashi was undeterred. “If you’d like me to play something?”

Shouyou’s eyes lit up. “Yes! We have enough time, right Kuroo?”

Kuroo shared a look with Bokuto who only smiled, shrugging his shoulders. 

Kuroo gave his cat-like grin. “Alright, one song.”

Shouyou pumped a fist into the air yelling, “YES!”

Kageyama elbowed Shouyou in the side, causing him to stumble.

“Ah! Baka-Kageyama! What you do that for?”

“We have a curfew.”

“Don’t worry, Kags,” Kuroo said. “I can bend some traffic rules. Safely, of course.” The smile he gave said otherwise. Kenma found himself smiling as well.

Kageyama did not look impressed. 

“Please Kageyama? I’ll do anything!” Shouyou pleaded.

“Anything? Like, take over my cleaning duties for two weeks when we get back to Uni?”

“Baka-Kageyama!” Shouyou yelled. 

Kageyama crossed his arms over his chest, unmoving. 

Shouyou huffed. “Fine, one week of chores for you.”

“Two,” Kageyama said, walking after Kuroo and Bokuto. “And if we’re late because you wanted a little serenade I’m sacrificing you to coach.”

 

***

 

Shouyou gushed when they entered the bookstore, running around to look at all the antiques.

Kuroo and Bokuto settled on one of the arm chairs in the corner, Bokuto fit snugly between Kuroo’s legs. Kuroo cackled at something Bokuto said. Kageyama idly ran his fingers over the spines of some of the older books, the one with cracked spines and thread-bare hard covers. Kenma stood in the center, watching them all with fascination. What weird and wonderful friends he had. 

Akaashi appeared from the storeroom, violin case in hand. 

He did his usual routine, unzipping the case from the center out and guiding the flap open as if he were peeling the skin of an orange in one go. Gently, he took out his classical violin, cradling it in his hands. He strummed it to check that it was still in tune. He fiddled with one of the pegs to fix a note, nodded when he was satisfied. Lastly was the bow. Akaashi tucked his violin under his chin as he ran his hand down the horsehair. He did it so lovingly as if he were stroking a pet, or perhaps running his fingers through a lover’s hair. Kenma blushed at the thought, turning his attention to a gawping Shouyou who was opening and closing a music box. Kageyama slammed it shut, nearly trapping Shouyou’s fingers underneath the lid. 

“Baka!”

“Alright,” Akaashi said, stepping out from behind the desk. “I can’t promise this will be any good. It sounds better on the electric.”

“Electric?” Shouyou asked, ignoring Kageyama’s scowl.

Kenma hummed. “You can plug it into a speaker. There’s a settings pad where it helps you tune, though Akaashi still does it manually. It also has a loop peddle that you can press so that it repeats what you just played and you can layer over it, making more than one sound at a time.” 

The room went silent. Kenma ducked his head, hiding behind the few sparse wisps of fringe that had escaped his panda buns. 

“Quite the expert, Kenma,” Kuroo said. There was no malice in his voice, but rather a hint of something. Curiosity, Kenma thought. He’s curious.

Akaashi cleared his throat, calling for everyone’s attention. He placed his bow in his mouth and held his violin as if it were a ukulele. He began plucking a tune. 

It was simple, sounding almost like the scales he sometimes practised when the bookstore wasn’t particularly busy. He repeated it twice before taking out his bow and placing it on the strings. It followed the same pattern as the plucking, dragging out the notes with a few quick trills in between when he changed notes. It sounded traditional, almost something like American movies would use when a scene was set in Japan. It was soft, pretty, like the cherry blossoms that would bloom in the spring. 

Suddenly, Akaashi changed the melody. With the flick of a wrist, the tune became sadder, melancholy. The cherry blossoms began to fall, leaving nothing but a barren tree. As if the seasons had changed in reverse. Winter, where nothing grew except the aching cold that would settle in the marrow of your bones. 

Just as quickly, however, the tune changed again. Not as happy as it was at first but still, there was a glimmer of hope. Akaashi’s bow danced across the strings, giving quick strikes of sound, almost like bird song. They echoed each other, becoming softer, then louder, then softer again. Akaashi began to drag out the notes, longer and longer, like a never-ending elastic band. Then suddenly, the band snapped. Akaashi had stopped. Shouyou raised his hands hesitantly, as if he wanted to clap but was seeking permission. 

Akaashi wasn’t finished, however. Quickly, in one smooth motion, he tucked his bow in his mouth again and began plucking frantically. It wasn’t the same as before. Before was light and gentle, like a Spanish guitarist picking a lullaby. Now it was spring rain, pitter-pattering across cobblestones and window sills. Akaashi repeated the tune twice then picked his bow up one last time and sawed out the happy tune. He dragged out the final note, fading it until it was only a whisper. 

He was breathing heavily after the exertion but there a pleased smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye that always came about whenever he got the chance to play his violin. 

Silence. Then, a wild round of applause. 

Shouyou was whooping and calling, “Encore! Encore!” Bokuto had jumped up out of Kuroo’s lap, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet as he gave claps like the sound of thunder. Kageyama’s jaw had dropped so low, Kenma worried it was unhinged. He started clapping slowly, delayed, as if he were stuck in slow motion. Kenma looked to Kuroo who was giving lazy claps, a mischievous quirk to his lips. Kenma scrunched his brows at him in question but Kuroo ignored him in favour of joining in on Shouyou’s cries for an encore. 

Akaashi smiled and gave a little bow, stealing a glance at Kenma. Kenma kept his hands dug deep into the pockets of his jacket. He was scared he might do something stupid. Like rush over and cup Akaashi’s cheeks, whispering soft congratulations in his ear, perhaps even giving him a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

Maybe not stupid, he thought. Just intimate. 

 

***

 

“I saw that.”

Kenma turned to find Kuroo at his side. His hair was more of a mess than usual thanks to Bokutou’s rough-housing. They were on their way to Kuroo’s car, Shouyou still gushing over Akaashi’s performance, layering one compliment after another. He and Akaashi were at the back, Akaashi answering all of Shouyou’s questions with quiet calm. He didn’t seem bothered, so Kenma had left them to their own devices. Kageyama had somehow ended up with Bokuto in the front. He did not look amused, though Bokuto didn’t seem notice. That left Kuroo and Kenma in the middle. 

It felt like ages since he and Kuroo had had a real talk. 

“Saw what?” Kenma asked, watching as Bokuto slung an arm around a grumpy Kageyama’s shoulders. Kageyama managed to shove him off with an elbow to the ribs, but Bokuto took it in stride. He continued his chattering, although he kept his hands to himself. 

Shouyou had said Kageyama was ace. It would explain his hanging back from the crowd, the way he held himself as if to say, _Danger, hazard site. Do not touch._. Kenma made a mental note to ask Shouyou for Kageyama’s email. 

“The look,” Kuroo said with a grin. 

“What look?”

“Don’t play dumb, Kenma.”

“I’m not,” Kenma said with a huff. 

“Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t feel it,” Kuroo said with a wink. 

Kenma breathed out a heavy sigh. “Kuroo, could you try and actually make sense, please?”

Kuroo stopped short, nearly causing Shouyou to bump into him. 

“Watch it Neko!” Shouyou said, side-stepping Kuroo just in time. Kuroo didn’t reply, rather staying rooted to the spot. He stared at Kenma intensely. 

“You mean you don’t know?”

Kenma remained silent. He started after Shouyou.

“Kitten, you practically had heart eyes during the entirety of Akaashi’s performance.”

Kenma stopped, turned. 

Kuroo was grinning. “You were a walking emoji,” he said, smile broadening into something wicked. 

“Kuro,” Kenma muttered. 

Kuroo raised his hands. “It’s alright. I won’t ask questions.” Kenma sighed with relief. “Until tomorrow,” Kuroo finished. 

Kenma protested, but Kuroo wasn’t having any of it. He swaggered away in search of Bokuto, leaving a stammering Kenma in his wake. 

 

***

 

“Alright, so how’s this gonna work?”

They’d arrived at Kuroo’s car. Kenma looked a little worse for wear. Akaashi wanted to ask him about it but figured Kenma might prefer some space for now. It had been a long night full of noisy crowds and boisterous friends. Even Akaashi was starting to feel the draining effects of being around so many people for too long. 

“Well, there’s six of us and five seats. Kuroo’s driving, duh,” Bokuto said. 

“Which leaves four seats for five people,” Kuroo muttered, his chin cradled in his hand. He was tilting his head this way and that, as if looking at his car at a different angle could somehow result in an extra seat popping up. 

“Someone could sit in someone’s lap,” Bokuto said. 

Kuroo shook his head. “Not safe, especially so late at night.”

“Who was the one saying he was willing to break a few traffic rules to get us back in time?” Kageyama snarked. 

“I said bend,” Kuroo said, returning Kageyama’s sass tenfold. “Not break.”

“I can walk.”

Everyone turned to Kenma. He was standing a little ways away from the group, legs shaking from the cold. He was wearing a pair leggings with sneakers and an oversized sweater, military jacket wrapped tight across his chest. Akaashi was surprised his legs hadn’t frozen into popsicles yet. 

Kuroo shook his head again. “Out of the question. It’s way too late to go walking about on your own.”

“I’ll go with,” Akaashi said. He looked to Kenma. “If you’ll have me?”

Kenma blinked in surprise. His eyes looked extra cat-like tonight with a thick swoop of eyeliner.

He nodded his head. _Yes. I’d like that._

Kuroo looked between the two. “But then you’d have to walk back by yourself,” he said.

“We could pick him up on the way back,” Bokuto said. “Drop him off at his apartment afterwards.”

They shared a look amongst themselves and came to an agreement. Kenma and Akaashi would walk back to the university while Kuroo and Bokuto dropped Kageyama and Shouyou off at their hotel. Kuroo would then head back to the University, pick Akaashi up and drop him off at his apartment, just in time for his own curfew. It was complicated but efficient. 

Kenma and Akaashi watched as Kuroo drove off towards the highway, music blasting through open windows. Akaashi could only imagine the look on Kageyama’s face. 

He turned to Kenma who was shivering badly. Akaashi shucked off his jacket with a chuckle. Kenma didn’t think twice about taking it. 

“Shall we?” Akaashi asked, nodding in the general direction of the university. Kenma nodded.

As the minutes passed, Akaashi a small bubble began to expand around them, creating a safe space. Their safe space. 

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

Akaashi startled. He’d gotten accustomed to the silence. 

“About what?” he asked, keeping his gaze on the cobblestone road.

“Your music.”

Akaashi chuckled. 

Kenma looked up at him, his face scrunching in confusion. 

Akaashi shook his head. “It’s quite normal for musicians to think they aren’t good enough. It’s quite normal for people, in general, to think they’re not good enough.”

Kenma shrugged. “I suppose. Though I still think you’re too hard on yourself.”

Akaashi smiled into his scarf. “Then I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

The corner of Kenma’s mouth twitched, begging to break into a smile. “I suppose so.”

They walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way.

“We’re here,” Kenma said as they approached the gates. The University’s curfew was eleven o’clock although the security guard looked about ready to pack up and leave. He was pouring himself some sludge – which Akaashi guessed was supposed to coffee – from a thermos.

“So we are,” Akaashi said, coming to a standstill. 

Looking at the silhouette of the University, Akaashi again felt a pull towards what he was missing. A higher education, the chance to broaden himself. A career in something other than music. 

“You look sad.”

Akaashi turned his attention back to Kenma. His brows were furrowed in concern, nose crinkling. He always got that look whenever he reached a difficult level in one of his video games. The look of stubborn determination to get it right. 

“I’m just thinking,” Akaashi said. 

They both knew it was a lame excuse, but Kenma understood the hidden meaning. _Not right now._

“I hate my graphic design classes,” he said suddenly.

“Really?” This was the first Akaashi was hearing of it.

“Hm.” Kenma looked up at the sky, having to squint without the help of his glasses to see the stars. 

“I only took it because it was the closest thing to game design the university had to offer.”

Akaashi took a steadying breath. This was uncharted territory. Kenma never gave away so much in one go. 

“Were there not other universities?” Akaashi asked, flinching when his voice hitched. 

“There were. But this was the only one that offered a scholarship.” 

“For writing?” Akaashi guessed.

Kenma nodded. He turned his gaze back to Akaashi. “My mother and I… We live very humbly.” He looked back up at the stars. “And besides, Kuroo goes here. It helps to know people.” 

Akaashi smiled. “I understand that much.”

They stood there watching the stars, waiting for Kuroo to come rocketing down the road. Akaashi felt like the girl in Hans Christiaan Anderson’s story. The one with a deadline before her chariot comes and whisks her away from prince charming. He wanted to say something, offer up a piece of himself just as Kenma had. But the words wouldn’t come. 

Kenma’s jacket buzzed. He blinked, tearing his gaze away slowly from the stars. He looked as if he’s just woken up. He patted down his jacket until he pulled out Akaashi’s flip phone. He passed it over.

Akaashi took it and tried not to shiver when their fingers brushed. 

 

**Bokuto: 5 min away. Give your goodbye kisses now before it’s too late!!! ♥‿♥**

 

Akaashi sighed before pocketing his phone in his jeans pocket. 

“Are they meddling?” Kenma asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“When aren’t they?” Akaashi said with a shake of his head.

Kenma shrugged. _What can you do?_

_Give your goodbye kisses now before it’s too late!_

Akaashi bit his lip. He tangled his fingers in the front of his sweater. 

“Kenma-kun –”

“Call me Kenma.”

Akaashi blinked, looked up at Kenma. That almost smile was still there, begging to be kissed. 

Akaashi chastised himself. _Stop it._ But another part of him, a quieter, softer part asked, _But what if?_

“Kenma,” Akaashi said, slow, testing the words out. They tasted the same yet different. A sweet undercurrent settled on his tongue. He liked it. 

“Kenma,” he said again, “I was wondering if –”

Kenma titled his head, a few stray hairs sliding in front of his eyes. 

“If, perhaps, if you’d be alright with it –”

Kenma took a step closer. 

“If I –”

Kenma leaned in, their noses barely brushing. 

“If –”

Akaashi felt the press of his lips and warmth blossom from the corner of his mouth, unfurling like a cherry blossom in spring. 

For a second he worried about the security guard seeing, or Kuroo’s car suddenly appearing. But then Kenma’s hand entangled with his own and he was looking at him with molten gold eyes and oh. _Oh._

Kenma pulled back, rocking back onto his heels. He’d had to stand on his tiptoes, Akaashi realized. 

Neither of them said anything. Then, a quiet, “Goodnight Akaashi.”

Akaashi blinked. Blinked again. Then, “Goodnight Kenma.”

 

***

 

Kenma stood outside the University gates for a good while after Akaashi had been bundled into Kuroo’s car. He touched a finger to his lips. He was still in a little awe at what he’d done, at Akaashi’s reaction. At the warmth in his chest that only seemed to expand every time he and Akaashi touched. 

He turned on the spot and made his way to his dorm room. He snuggled further into his jacket, catching a small hint of cinnamon.

He was still wearing Akaashi’s jacket.

He smiled to himself. _Guess I’ll have to pay him a visit tomorrow._


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo meddles once again but this time Kenma takes a stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter, but the next one will definitely be longer and may or may not include a kiss or two ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The message simply read:

 

**Kuroo: Come quick, Bokuto is hurt. I think it’s really bad.**

**Sent 08:11**   
**Read 08:29**

 

Kenma didn’t even think twice about it. He scrambled out of bed, flung on a sweater and the nearest pair of pants and ran out the door. He forgot his shoes. 

He didn’t have any classes that day and had planned to sleep in a little before going to the bookstore later. He was in need of a new book and plus, he hadn’t seen Akaashi since their kiss outside of the university gate. 

Could it be considered a kiss? Kenma didn’t really know, he’d never put much thought into what was considered a kiss or a date. It had never applied to him until now. 

A blush crept up his neck, reaching the tips of his ears.

_Not now._ He needed to get to Kuroo and Bokuto’s dorm room. 

His feet were sopping wet by the time he’d reached Kuroo’s dorm building. It had rained the night before. Spring was officially upon them.

“Kuroo!” Kenma yelled, skidding into the third-floor hallway. He nearly fell as he swung around the corner. 

“In here!” Kuroo called. He sounded frantic, his voice pitching. 

Kenma burst through the door, expecting to see blood, a downed Bokuto, something out a horror movie even. Instead, he found Kuroo and Bokuto cuddling in their make-shift double bed (they had pushed their two singles together back when they first started dating already), Bokuto fiddling on his phone while Kuroo played with his hair. 

Kenma came to a halt. “Kuroo?”

“Ah! There you are, Kenma,” Kuroo said, sending Kenma a sly smile. “Took you long enough.”

Kenma sent Kuroo his most unimpressed look. Kuroo’s smile only widened. 

Kenma checked his phone, re-reading the message. “Bokuto is hurt. I think it’s really bad?” 

“Well yeah,” Kuroo said. “He bumped his knee this morning.” As proof, Bokuto lifted his leg for Kenma to inspect. Kenma squinted and could just make out a pastel pink plaster that was placed across his knee. “See?”

Kenma had a bad feeling about this. “Kuro?” he said again, slowly inching his way towards the door.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Bokuto said. He pocketed his phone and peeled himself away from Kuroo, although not without giving him a kiss on the cheek first. “See you in an hour,” Bokuto said. 

“Enjoy gym, and don’t forget your towel,” Kuroo said.

Kenma watched as Bokuto slung a towel over his shoulder and grabbed his keys from the dresser. “See you later, Kenma!” he said with a cheerful smile before waltzing out the door. It closed behind him with a soft _click._

Kenma turned back to Kuroo who looked very smug with himself. 

Kenma’s hands balled into fists, but he kept his voice steady. “Kuro –”

“How else was I supposed to get you to talk to me?” Kuroo said with a shrug. He patted the now empty spot next to him. “Have seat.”

Kenma shook his head. He didn’t have the time for Kuroo’s nonsense. It was bad enough the first time. “No, I’m not doing this.” He stomped to the door, twisting the handle only to find that it was locked. He tried again, pulling back with all his might. It didn’t budge. 

_Clever cat._

Kenma glared at Kuroo. “You locked me in?”

Kuroo only offered a shrug before patting the bed once more. 

Kenma sighed in frustration, mumbling curses under his breath as he made his way to the bed. Instead of sitting next to Kuroo, however, he settled at the foot of the bed, digging his feet under the covers. One, because his feet were cold, and two, because Kuroo and Bokuto deserved wet sheets after the stunt they pulled. 

“What is this about?” Kenma said, drawing his knees to his chest. 

Kuroo dropped his smile, his face turning serious. “You’re keeping secrets from me again,” he said.

_Shit._

“I don’t understand, Kenma. I thought we talked about this? Remember? Awkward conversation at the coffee shop, you ate two whole chocolate muffins? Ring any bells.”

Kenma tucked his chin behind his knees, receding into himself. He’d promised to talk to Kuroo more honestly, and he had been… mostly. 

“Yes,” Kenma murmured. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me about you and Akaashi? Again, I might add?” Kuroo looked so stern. It didn’t suit him, his mouth forming a thin line, no quirks or dimples in sight. It was unnatural. 

Kenma shrugged, even though he knew the answer. His relationship with Akaashi was still relatively new. They’d been together for about, what, three weeks? _Three weeks, nearly a month soon,_ Kenma realised. Was he supposed to get Akaashi a gift? Should they plan a date of some sort? Did people actually do that? He should probably ask Akaashi, although, he had about as much dating experience as Kenma. Maybe they could just –

“Kenma?” Kenma blinked, coming back to reality. Right. Kuroo, locked in a dorm room, being lectured. 

“Kuroo,” Kenma said, slow, tentative. What could he say? How could he explain it? “I, that is, Akaashi and I, we’re…”

Kuroo nodded, indicating for Kenma to go on. 

Kenma took a deep breath, averting his eyes when he said, “We’re together.”

Kuroo perked up, a smile tugging at his lips. “I knew it! About time, honestly, you guys kept dancing around each other so long. Bo kept saying it would never happen, but I mean, he and I were the same before we started dating and – Kenma? What’s the matter?”

Kenma could feel himself shaking, felt the tremor in his hands. This was why he didn’t want to tell Kuroo. He’d make a big deal out of it, presume things, try and pry answers out of Kenma, answers he didn’t even know himself yet. 

“N-nothing,” Kenma said, although he knew he sounded unconvincing. Kuroo leaned forward, hand outstretched. “Kenma? Is something going on? Did Akaashi –”

Kenma shook his head furiously. “No, Akaashi didn’t do anything.” That was the point. _He doesn’t do anything without asking me first, because I’m, I’m –_

Kenma couldn’t even think it in his head. How was he supposed to explain this to Kuroo?

Kuroo settled a gentle hand on Kenma’s ankle, grounding him. “Then I don’t understand? You guys are dating, right?”

Kenma hesitated, then nodded.

“And you’re happy?”

He didn’t hesitate this time, humming in the affirmative. 

“Then what’s wrong?” Kuroo asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

Kenma swallowed thickly. He’d promised Kuroo he’d be more honest. They’d always been honest with each other, blunt and the too the point, and yet still caring and considerate towards the other. This shouldn’t be any different. 

And yet it was. 

Kenma didn’t know if he was ready to discuss this with Kuroo yet. He’d talked about it with Akaashi, but, then, it was relative. It was important because it involved Akaashi. This though… It didn’t involve Kuroo, shouldn’t matter whether Kenma told him or not because it was Kenma’s to tell. 

“I… Akaashi and I, we’re, we’re taking it slow,” Kenma said, the words flowing unsteadily. 

Kuroo gave him a soft smile. “That’s okay. More than okay, but I don’t understand why that would make you upset? Unless you don’t want that?”

“I do!” Kenma exclaimed. He covered his mouth with his hands, giving a little squeak. 

Kuroo chuckled. “Well, as long as he’s respecting that, then I give my full blessing.” He gave Kenma’s ankle a squeeze before retracting his hand. Settling back against the headboard, Kuroo fluffed a pillow to make himself more comfortable before turning his gaze back to Kenma. Mischief danced in his amber eyes. 

Kenma found himself smiling a little. “Last I checked, you’re not my mother?”

Kuroo gasped in mock horror. “How dare you slander me so! Of course I’m your mother!” He waved his hand about. “Figuratively speaking.”

“And brother, and best friend?” Kenma said, arching a brow.

Kuroo crossed his arms. “Exactly. Which is why you should stop lying to me.”

Kenma wilted, tucking his chin to his chest. He’d hoped they’d moved away from that. “Kuroo, I wasn’t lying –”

“You didn’t tell me you were in a relationship. That’s a pretty big milestone not to tell your best friend.”

“Well, technically it’s none of your business.”

He said it slowly, in his usual tone, soft and steady and yet Kuroo’s mouth clicked shut, his eyes wide with _something._ Surprise? Admonishment? Horror? 

Kenma felt a drop of guilt settle low in his stomach, but at the same time, he knew his words were true. He pushed forward, never raising his voice but rather speaking as he always did. _This was just another conversation_ , he reminded himself, over and over. “You’re my friend, my brother, but that does not mean you need to know every detail of my life. Especially when it does not concern you.” 

Kuroo’s lips parted, confusion and hurt dancing across eyes. He looked like a puppy who’d just gotten a hiding for playing a little too rough. “Kenma, I –”

Kenma raised a hand, stopping Kuroo before he could continue. “I’m happy that you’re happy for me, and I promise, even though I am in a, a relationship, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to spend any less time with you. What has changed this past month, truly? Except maybe my holding Akaashi’s hand?”

Kenma could feel his throat going hoarse. He felt parched, like a bucket of sand had been dumped down his throat. He hated having to talk like this. He hated talking like this with Kuroo, having to explain himself, defend himself. Couldn’t Kuroo understand?

“When you and Bokuto started dating, did I ever question you about your love life? About what you were doing with him when I wasn’t around?”

“No, but –”

“And I didn’t question you when you spent more time with Bokuto. Nor when, after a fight, you said you wanted to be alone. Did I ever dig for answers?”

Kuroo stuttered. “Kenma, I’m –”

Kenma scrunched his face in frustration, his voice going raspy with all the talking. “So please, don’t try and involve yourself in my love – my, my relationship with Akaashi. It’s private. And you don’t always need to worry about me. I can look after myself.” 

This was difficult. This was more than Kenma had been willing to talk about. But the more Kenma spoke, the lighter he felt, even if his heart was thumping desperately in his chest, even if he could feel his hands shaking. He needed to say this, needed Kuroo to understand. 

“I’m learning things about myself that I’d never thought to consider before, and I’m still coming to terms with those parts. So, it’s not easy for me right now to explain them. I might never want to explain them. And that should be okay. It is okay, isn’t it?” He finally looked up, meeting Kuroo’s eyes for the first time in what felt like millennia. 

Kuroo’s jaw had slackened, his brows pinched in a tight knot. He kept blinking, his mouth forming incomprehensible words. He looked stunned and lost and it scared Kenma a little. But then he took a breath, and another, and the knot smoothed out, his shoulders slumping as they lost their tension. 

“Yes,” Kuroo whispered. “Yes, of course that’s okay.”

Kenma nodded. His fringe fell into his eyes. He brushed it away. He probably looked a mess, having run here at full sprint after jumping straight up out of bed. But he didn’t really care, not when he saw the soft look on Kuroo’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo said, his voice strengthening. “I didn’t really think when I wrangled you here.”

“No, you didn’t,” Kenma said, trying to sound irritated. Kuroo’s lips quirked. 

“I guess I was just worried. Though it looks like I have no need, now that my Kenma’s all grown up.” He leaned forward, ruffling Kenma’s hair. 

Kenma batted him away, although a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“I’m still mad at you,” Kenma said, once Kuroo had finally stopped his nonsense.

“It’s okay,” Kuroo said. “You have a right to be.”

They shared a look. Kuroo’s lips quirked. “If you want to talk, I’m here. You know that.”

Kenma nodded. 

“And if you don’t want to talk, then, that’s okay too.”

Kenma didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. 

They sat like that in comfortable silence, regarding one another. They were different now, after this conversation. Kenma didn’t know how exactly, but he felt different. Stronger, maybe, or just more honest. Maybe more himself. 

In high school, even back in elementary school, he’d always worry about what other’s thought, how they perceived him, even though he couldn’t work up the courage to speak to any of them. He’d hidden himself, had kept his thoughts to himself. And then Kuroo had barged into his life without any warning, whatsoever, and somehow, they’d become friends. It was like how Akaashi had said, he didn’t know why Kuroo chose him of all people, but he was glad that he did. And Kenma knew that Kuroo was just as happy that Kenma had chosen him in return. That’s why they worked, even though they were complete opposites. 

“Do you have a key?” Kenma finally asked, breaking their easy silence.

“Hm?”

“Do you have a key?” Kenma said again, pointing to the door, which still happened to be locked. 

“Oh, no, Bo took both sets.”

Kenma felt his eyebrows rise well past his hairline. 

Kuroo only shrugged. “Had to make sure you didn’t scamper away before we could sit down and talk.”

Kenma sighed, resisting the urge to slap the palm of his hand to his forehead. Sometimes, or, actually, most times, Kuroo didn’t think things through. Add Bokuto into the mix, and, well, you get situations like this. 

“So, we’re stuck here until Bokuto gets back from the gym?”

“Uh huh,” Kuroo said, sinking down until he was lying flat on his back. He patted his chest. “So, I’d make myself comfortable if I were you.”

Kenma hesitated. Even though he and Kuroo and sorted out most of their argument, he was still a little upset about the way Kuroo had orchestrated all of this. But knowing Bokuto, he’d be at the gym far longer than the promised hour. With a sigh of defeat, Kenma crawled over to the head of the bed, and slumped onto Kuroo, shuffling until he was comfortable.

Kuroo chuckled. “I told Bo to make this session short.”

“So only three hours then,” Kenma grumbled. 

Kuroo barked a laugh. “Yeah,” he said, “only three hours.”

They settled down, Kuroo asking Kenma what his plans were for the day. When Kenma said that he was planning to visit Akaashi, Kuroo gave a knowing smile, but didn’t comment on it. The conversation flowed smoothly from there, Kuroo playing with Kenma’s hair while Kenma played a game on his phone. It was as it should be, as it always had been, but Kenma still couldn’t help the feeling that something had changed, about their friendship, or himself. Maybe both. What he did know was that it was a good change. He leaned in to Kuroo’s petting and beat his highest score by a hundred points. It was a good hour spent. 

 

***

 

After having lunch with Akaashi, and with a new book tucked under his arm, Kenma spent the rest of the day in his room. He had an essay to finish, which he did promptly, as well as a design project that he hadn’t started yet even though it was due at the end of the week. Every minute he spent on it, though, he kept asking himself, _Why am I doing this?_ He wanted to be a game designer, not create adverts for other people’s games. He wondered if it was too late change his major to creative writing instead, and drop design completely. He’d have to look into that. 

Fed up, Kenma closed his Photoshop tab without bothering to save his progress and turned to Google instead. He started with research on college majors, reading articles about how it was or wasn’t a good idea to change your major in your second year. It only confused him. Somehow, he ended up re-reading some of the articles he’d bookmarked about asexuality. Which reminded him…

He opened a new tab and logged into his Gmail account. He clicked on the _compose_ button and typed in the address Shouyou had sent him. 

 

**To: kageyamat@gmail.com**   
**Subject: …**

 

Kenma bit his lip. He could just leave it blank but… No. He needed to be straightforward about this. Tobio wasn’t one to embellish his words. Neither was Kenma, really. He started typing. 

 

**To: kageyamat@gmail.com**   
**Subject: Being Ace**

 

It would have to do. With a shrug, Kenma typed out his message. He checked his spelling and grammar, re-wrote one or two sentences so it sounded less like a formal business letter, then finally signed it with his name. 

He hovered over the send button. After counting to three, he pressed down, sending the letter before he could think twice about it. The soft _whoosh_ sound effect played through his speakers. It was done, no take backs.

Kenma sat back, sliding down the seat until his head bumped the back of his chair. 

All he could now was wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, long time no write. I know I've been very, very sparse with updates. School is officially over and I am free to write so, hopefully, if all goes according to plan, I'll be able to finish this fic before New Years. I know more or less where the story is going to go, all I need to do now is sit myself down and let the words flow. It's been over a year since I started this fic and I'm determined to finish it with the care and consideration it deserves. So stay tuned!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi needs to learn to check the weather, Kenma is a wet cat (again). There's music somewhere in the background...

Akaashi should have learnt his lesson after last time. 

It was Saturday, Akaashi had played his usual set with a few new additional covers on his electric violin and he had planned on taking Kenma to the little restaurant down the street (as was a tradition) when a spring rain fell upon them. It could have been considered a monsoon the way the wind whipped their faces, causing the raindrops to become tiny bullets shooting at their backs. They used their jackets to protect the electrical equipment and suffered the entire trek to Akaashi’s apartment. 

Kenma was shaking from the cold, his words trembling. 

“I th-think, a-as a pr-precaution, we sh-should always bring a-an umbrella to your pe-performances.”

Akaashi chuckled, trying to keep his own shaking to a minimum as he slotted his key into his front door. 

“Or just check the weather.”

Kenma shrugged, the corner of his lip twitching. They said nothing else as they entered the apartment, too busy with putting away Akaashi’s equipment and trying to warm themselves up. 

It was less awkward than last time. Kenma asked if he could take a shower and accepted a spare change of clothes like it was routine. As if they did this all the time. 

Akaashi smiled to himself as he put Kenma’s wet clothes in the dryer, closing the door with his foot. He made tea for the both of them, Kenma with two sugars and his plain black, listening to the steady rhythm of the rain falling and the shower running. When Kenma exited the bathroom, Akaashi had to hold back a gasp. Kenma wore a loose pair of sweatpants which were tied tightly at the waist but still managed to slip down his hips, causing the ends to pool around his feet. The sweater Akaashi had lent him was also too big. The collar fell off one shoulder, showing a slither of collarbone. 

Akaashi cleared his throat. He offered the cup. “I made tea.”

Kenma padded over, leaving a trail of steam in his wake. He spoke a quiet “thank you” before taking his cup and blowing on the tea. When he took a sip, he hummed in contentment. 

Akaashi gulped down the last of his tea, not caring that it was still scolding hot, and hurried to the shower with a quick, “I’ll be back.” Kenma looked at him with puzzlement in his golden eyes but didn’t call Akaashi out on his strange behaviour. 

Akaashi made sure to close the door quietly behind him, not wanting to worry Kenma too much. Once the door was locked, Akaashi leaned back against the door, releasing a soft breath. 

Kenma had visited him on Tuesday, on the premise of needing a new book, which Akaashi obviously obliged by giving a few recommendations. As he listed potential books, Kenma walked about the shop, looking as well for anything that might catch his eye. He always trailed his fingers along the spines of the books, as if waiting for a sign that _this_ was the one he was looking for. Akaashi’s blush worsened the longer he watched Kenma. He wondered what it would feel like, to have Kenma trail those fingers along his spine, gentle and with such care. 

“O-or th-there is a new book that I haven’t shelved yet,” Akaashi said, wincing when his voice broke. Kenma didn’t seem to notice, continuing his promenade around the shop. 

Akaashi reached down to the bottom shelf of books that were hidden behind the desk counter. These were the books he stowed away for reading when the shop was quiet, ones, if he were a customer, he wouldn’t hesitate to buy. After a quick scan, he found the one he was looking for. 

“I was planning on keeping this for myself,” he said, his voice quiet. “But I think you might like it.”

Kenma perked up and started towards the desk. Instead of stopping at the front, however, he came around to the back, standing at Akaashi’s side. He peered down at the book Akaashi had laid on the countertop. 

It looked like it had been wrapped in parchment, the title written with a calligraphy pen. An illustration on the front showed death dancing with a young girl. 

“The Book Thief,” Kenma read aloud, his words breathy. 

Akaashi hummed. Whenever they got a new stock of books, if one, in particular, caught his eye, he would turn to a random page and read the first paragraph to see whether he liked the writing style of the author, if they could catch his attention and draw him into the story even if he didn’t know the context. A book should be like a conversation you dropped into the middle of. Even if you don’t know the full story, you still want to sit and listen to what happens next, determined to hear the end. The narrator, in this book, turned out to be death. It fascinated Akaashi, hearing death’s perspective of life in a little town in Germany pre-World War Two, following the story of a girl and how she would steal books for her own personal collection. He’d shelved it on his “read later” shelf immediately. 

Kenma titled his head, observing the book. He fingered the edge of the cover, on the brink of opening the book but never crossing the line. 

He looked up at Akaashi, his eyes shining with intent. 

“I’ll take it,” he said. 

Akaashi sighed. He needed to shower. His father would admonish him if he knew he was keeping a guest waiting about. 

Shrugging off his wet clothes, Akaashi put the shower on its hottest setting. He held his hand under the water, waiting for the cold to recede from his fingertips and be replaced by heat. Once it felt like the water was biting his skin, he stepped under the spray. Warmth settled deep in his bones, chasing away the cold. 

When he finally left the bathroom, he was in his softest pair of sweatpants and a plain white Tee. He was too hot to put on a sweater right now. Kenma was standing in the kitchen, leaning on his elbows and staring out of the window while he waited for the kettle to boil. Akaashi took a moment to drink in the sight. The soft curve of Kenma’s cheek, the gentle slope of his shoulders. The sterile white of his kitchen lights somehow managed to capture the tints of gold left in Kenma’s hair. Kenma kept saying he couldn’t decide between re-dying his hair or growing it out but Akaashi liked it how it was now: rich dark chocolate roots cascading into golden tips that just brushed Kenma’s jawline. 

The kettle clicked, signalling it’s being done boiling. Kenma slowly turned his gaze away from the window and started making a fresh cup of tea, almost as if he were stuck in slow motion. He caught Akaashi’s eye. 

“Do you want another?”

“Yes please,” Akaashi said, trying not to play with the hem of his shirt.

Kenma nodded and got to work on making their tea. 

Akaashi ducked his head and made his way to the couches where his two violin cases lay on the coffee table. After some contemplation, he chose to sit down on the double seater. It was the one Kenma had slept on the last time they were caught in a storm. Akaashi ran his hands over the velvety surface, drawing pictures and patterns. He hummed a tune under his breath. Soon, he was drawing to the rhythm of the tune, making lazy circles and squiggles. 

A cup came into his peripheral vision. He looked up to find Kenma standing before him, offering him a cup of black tea.

Akaashi took it, making sure not to brush their fingers. 

“Thank you.”

Kenma gave a slight nod before sitting down next to Akaashi. He tucked his feet underneath him, cradling his own cup to his chest. His hair was still dripping a little. A drop glided down his fringe and landed in his tea, causing ripples. Kenma hummed in surprise.

Akaashi took a sip of his tea. It was perfect. 

“I think,” Akaashi said, “that the storm might not let up anytime soon.”

Kenma blew on his tea.

“If you want, you can stay the night?”

Kenma paused, about to take a sip. He looked to Akaashi. “Is that okay?”

Akaashi chuckled. “It was last time, I don’t see how this time should be any different.”

Kenma seemed to think on that, his eyebrows furrowing a little. He curled his hands about his cup, bringing it close to his chest as he settled back against the cushions. He wiggled until he was comfortable. 

Akaashi took that as a sign that yes, he can relax now. 

As he sunk back against the cushions, he couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips. It had been a tiring day at the bookstore. There were more customers than usual, and in between, he’d had to stack three new boxes of books, most of which required the ladder. 

“Something on your mind?”

Akaashi tilted his head towards Kenma, who in turn shuffled so that he was facing Akaashi. 

“I hate heights,” Akaashi found himself saying. “Did you tell you that?”  
Kenma shook his head, his fringe swinging back and forth in front of his face. 

“I always find myself hesitating whenever I have to use the ladder to shelf books. Even though it’s not that high… I guess I’m more afraid of falling, and something bad happening.”

“Like breaking your wrist?” Kenma asked, softly. 

Akaashi nodded. “Exactly.”

Kenma waited a moment before speaking, “I’m afraid of what other’s think about me. At least, I used to be. Now, not as much.”

Akaashi placed his half-finished cup of tea down on the coffee table, never breaking eye contact with Kenma.

“I think everyone is, to some degree.”

Kenma shook his head once again. “It was very bad. I would sit in a corner by myself, too afraid to approach anyone in case I messed up. And yet I still tried to fit in, by dying my hair, or wearing specific clothes.” Kenma twisted a strand of hair around his finger, playing with it. “I still get anxious in big crowds of people, especially when I’m alone. So, when I heard you playing…” he tapered off but kept twirling the strand of hair around and around, a golden spiral. 

“Did it help?” Akaashi asked.

Kenma nodded. He let go of his hair. A few drops of water had collected on his finger, instead of wiping them off on his sweater, however, he brought them to his lips, as if he were tasting dew drops. He caught Akaashi watching him, and his ears turned pink as a result. 

Akaashi could feel his own cheeks reddening. 

“It did,” Kenma said. “Help. Your music, it helped.”

“I’m glad to hear it. That’s what music is for, to provide comfort or give you an opportunity to let all your frustrations out. It is an eternal friend, like books.”

Their eyes met, both filled with understanding. 

“Is that why you turned to music?” Kenma asked. “For comfort?”

Akaashi found himself smiling before the words were even spoken. “My mother could sing quite well, but she always said that she wished she could play an instrument. When she was younger she went for lessons but, no matter how hard she tried, no matter the instrument she attempted to learn, she just couldn’t. It was like her hands had turned into cinderblocks, her head underwater. ‘I was made to appreciate music,’ she’d say, ‘but never play it’.” He ducked his head, trying to hide his grin. She’d say it so dramatically, as if it were the most terrible thing in the world, just to make Akaashi giggle. She’d laugh with him, happy that he was happy. 

He felt a finger poke his cheek. When he looked up he found an amused Kenma gazing at him. “Don’t do that,” he said.

Akaashi covered his mouth with his hand. “Do what?” he asked, his words slightly muffled.

Kenma leaned forward, and, placing two fingers on Akaashi’s wrist, gently pushed Akaashi’s hand away from his smile. “That.”

Akaashi stared down at his hand. He curled and uncurled his fingers, studying them. When he looked up to Kenma, a question on his tongue, Kenma’s eyes crinkled.

“You hide your smile. Don’t. It’s pretty.” He said it softly, his usual murmur, but there was a hint of determination in his words, in the clearness of his eyes. In the wiggle of his nose. 

“Thank you,” Akaashi said before he could think better of it. 

Kenma’s lips titled, his ears turning pink once more. “Don’t thank me. It’s true.”

“Thank you all the same.”

Kenma finished the last of his tea, although he looked conflicted on moving to put it down on the table. Akaashi leaned forward, gently taking the cup from his hands and placing it on the table for him. Kenma caught his hand. 

“What was your mother like?” Kenma asked. 

Akaashi leaned back on the couch, although he scooted forwards a little so Kenma had easier access to his hand. 

“She was bright,” Akaashi said, without hesitance. 

Kenma arched a brow. _Tell me more._

Akaashi obliged. “My father and I are both quite… not stoic, but, closed off. Blunt.” Kenma gave him a knowing look, the corner of his mouth twitching. “But, she was the complete opposite," Akaashi continued, "Always so open, and full of light. She was the only one who could make my father laugh. She supported me in my music, came to every competition and recital. And every time she’d say, ‘Your music made my heart sing’.” 

“Was.”

“What?”

“You’re referring to her in the past tense,” Kenma said. 

Akaashi averted his eyes. Kenma gave his hand a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry –”

“Don’t be,” Akaashi said. “She died when I was seventeen. Car accident.” Akaashi shrugged. He’d said this so many times, it didn’t hurt anymore. What hurt was looking for her in the crowd that would swarm in the town square every Saturday night. What hurt was never finding those emerald green eyes and a dimple in her left cheek, hands made for piano that could never get the scales right. A smile that not only lit up her face but Akaashi’s as well. 

“My dad left us when I was twelve,” Kenma said. 

Akaashi turned to him. Kenma’s head was ducked, hiding behind his fringe like he always did when he was embarrassed. Akaashi reached forward and tucked a strand of hair behind Kenma’s ear. Kenma caught his hand, running his thumb over Akaashi’s knuckles. He brought it down to his lap, where Akaashi’s other hand laid cradled in Kenma’s palm. Akaashi spread his fingers so that the tips brushed the inside of Kenma’s wrist, following the streams of blue that disappeared underneath the sleeves of his sweater. 

Kenma shivered. 

Akaashi withdrew his hands. 

“Sorry.”

Kenma caught Akaashi’s hands once more. “It’s okay,” he said, interlacing their fingers. 

Akaashi stared for longer than what was probably appropriate, but he couldn’t help it. Kenma’s skin was a touch darker than his, the skin around his knuckles dry. They weren’t the most beautiful hands, and yet Akaashi was fascinated all the same. _Gamer’s hands_ , his mind thought. _Bookworm’s hands_ , said his heart.

Kenma was the first to withdraw his hands. After hovering a moment, Akaashi withdrew as well. He cleared his throat. 

“Do you remember that song I played you? The not-so-finished one?”

Kenma nodded. 

“I finished it.”

Kenma’s eyes widened, a flash of _something_ making the gold in his eyes glitter. 

_Please play it for me._

He didn’t have to ask twice. 

Akaashi stood, dusting off his sweatpants even though he didn’t need to, and reached for his classical violin. But then he thought better of it. 

He walked to his room where the rest of his equipment lay tucked away. He brought out his speaker and loop pedal, setting up like he usually did. Once he was finished he faced his audience. Kenma had swivelled around, knees tucked to his chest, arm resting on the back of the couch and head resting on his arm. He looked comfortable as if he were about to listen to a bedtime story. Akaashi smiled at him. 

Akaashi widened his stance like his teacher taught him. After taking a deep breath, Akaashi placed his electric violin on his shoulder, nestled in the slope of his neck. After sneaking a quick glance at Kenma, Akaashi began. 

He started with what he called the chimes. It was a light plucking of the strings, slowly working his way down the neck of the violin in counts of four. Once he’d set that part, he pressed his loop peddle and added the next layer. It was another piece of plucking, adding a bit of meat to the intro. Then it was time for the first layer of strings. It was calm and light, what the second violins section would contribute to the piece. Then came the voice. A deep, melancholy stroke of the bow on the strings, long and drawn out. Now came the texture. He looped the melancholy and started the more quick-paced bowing, sawing up and down in quick succession. Like a wind blowing the last of the autumn leaves from their perch, causing them to tumble and swoop in the air. The storm continued to brew, growing slowly as Akaashi added what would have been a cello’s piece, but with the electric, he could hit the base notes on his own. He layered the background strings, creating his own orchestra, building up to climax, the wind whipping around his face, tugging at his shirt and causing his curls to dry in disarray. He slapped his palm against the strings, adding percussion, the sound of stones being thrown into stagnant water, causing ripples to spread far and wide, then just when the song demanded the final climax, Akaashi stopped. He pressed the loop pedal, drawing back the wind and the leaves, pressing play-back so that the rocks crawled out of the water and the ripples receded into one another until there wasn’t a drop out of place. The water became still once more. Akaashi placed his bow in his mouth for safekeeping as he finished off the song, plucking the tune from the beginning, only backwards, working from the low notes up to the tip of the neck. He plucked the final note, letting it echo then fade into nothingness. 

The first thing Akaashi noticed when he came to, was that the rain had stopped outside, a drizzle that barely registered as a sound. He blinked, waiting for the raindrops to trickle down his cheeks. They didn’t. 

_I’m in my apartment,_ he realizes. _I’m here with –_

Akaashi tore his gaze from the window and looked to the couches where a very silent Kenma sat. He was blinking slowly, fingers bundled in the hem of his sweater. He looked like he’d stopped breathing. 

Akaashi took a step forward but didn’t move any further. He felt like his legs were about to give out. 

Kenma tilted his head, a barely-there gesture, but one Akaashi could spot easily by now. Kenma placed one foot on the floor, then another, careful, cautious, as if the hardwood floor would give way any moment. He stood, fingers still bundled in his sweater. He started towards Akaashi. Akaashi stayed where he was, legs rigid so he wouldn’t fall over. 

Kenma stopped a breath away, his toes brushing Akaashi’s. Akaashi flexed his toes, reaching out to attain that tiny bit more of contact. Kenma obliged by cupping his cheek instead. His gaze was searching, heavy-lidded, golden irises glinting with intent. He looked rapt, and Akaashi felt just as captivated. 

“Did you like it?” he finally asked.

Kenma stroked a thumb across Akaashi’s cheek, his hand inching into Akaashi’s hair. He played with the curls Akaashi new looked a mess, but Kenma didn’t seem to mind. Placing his other hand on Akaashi’s shoulder for balance, Kenma went up on the balls of his feet so that they were eye to eye. He leaned in, their noses bumping when he said, “You made my heart sing.”

Akaashi could feel the tears clinging to his eyelashes, but did not try and stop them as they made their way down his cheeks, just as he did not stop Kenma from touching his lips with his own. 

It was soft, and over in a flash, but Akaashi didn’t mind. He didn’t mind because it was Kenma, and it was his mother’s words ringing in his ears once more, and his heart was swelling and he couldn’t feel his toes. When he tilted his head down and gave Kenma’s cheek a peck, he heard a soft intake of breath. 

He was still holding his violin and bow. He bent down, placing them out of harm’s way, before coming up to meet Kenma once more. They kissed and Akaashi’s mind went blank. He tangled his fingers in Kenma’s hair, cradled his neck, and kissed him. On the corner of his mouth, the tip of his nose, the crinkle by his eye because Kenma was smiling. And Akaashi was too. 

They just kept smiling, and kissing, never going further than a brush of lips, a peck, a press of cheek to flushed cheek. 

Afterwards, they sat on the couch, holding hands, and telling each other about their childhoods. How Akaashi couldn’t ride a bike until he was twelve, or that Kenma nearly drowned the first time Kuro tried to teach him how to swim at the local pool. They discovered that they both liked strawberry ice cream, and agreed to disagree on which icing was better on red velvet cake – marshmallow or cream cheese. They talked until Kenma started yawning and Akaashi said it was time to sleep. Kenma didn’t argue. 

Akaashi offered to sleep on the couch so Kenma could have the bed. Kenma declined, saying, “This couch is far better than any bed I’ve ever slept in.” Akaashi smiled and didn’t argue against it. 

Once Kenma had assured him that he was comfortable, Akaashi switched off the lights and headed to his own room. He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He always struggled with falling asleep, settling his mind enough to relax and doze off for a few hours (if he was lucky). But instead, when his head hit the pillow, Akaashi fell asleep almost instantly. 

His dreams were filled with music and strands of gold. The words _Your music made my heart sing_ was repeated in a whispering lullaby, just like the ones his mother used to sing. It was the most peaceful sleep he would ever have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi's song is based on Max Richter's Dona Nobis Pacem 2. Please give it a listen if you have the time, his music is stunning.   
> Link below:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2n8bIBspMLY


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is given a choice, Kenma is given advice, and the two must make some difficult decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, and happy 2018! I've been working on this fic for nearly a year and half... eish. I have a good of idea of what these last few chapters will contain and as you can see I have given a final amount. This may be subject to change to 23 but I don't know for sure yet.
> 
> I just wanted to thank you all for being so patient. I know I haven't been as attentive to this fic as I should have been. I am determined to finish it, and I am determined to give you all (and myself) the best writing that I can. 
> 
> The plot thickens a little here and... that's all I can say without spoiling anything. Hope you enjoy and please be kind x

**To: kenkokat@gmail.com**   
**Subject: Being Ace**

Kenma,

Unfortunately, you are correct about Hinata, sunshine-boy can never keep his mouth shut. I’ve put him in line, though, no one knows except he and I. 

Regarding the issue of coming out to others: to be honest, the only person I have come out to is Hinata, ironically. That’s only because he got “suspicious” and “did a bit of digging”. I just confirmed his theories. People have asked me multiple times what my preference is, people can be nosey like that, to which I usually ignore them and wait until a change in subject before jumping back into the conversation. If they are persistent, I just walk away. Sexuality, whilst being a big topic of today, is still a personal matter. We have the right to tell, or not tell, others what our preferences are, and to choose who those select few are. 

I haven’t told anyone mainly because I feel they are not entitled to that information, however, there is also the case of those who object to asexuality. Many people are ignorant of asexuality. Some believe, even when informed, that it doesn’t exist, or that _we_ are misguided and need to be taught a “lesson”, so to speak. I am both aromantic and asexual, so to me, relationships have never been something to consider. I could simply say if the occasion arises, that “I’m not interested in anyone”. Your case, from what I gather, is a little different which probably adds to the difficulty of explaining it to someone, and hence, adds to the apprehension you have been feeling.

From what you’ve told me, Akaashi is fully understanding of your preferences, but perhaps that relates to his being demisexual. He understands to an extent. Kuroo on the other hand… unless he has done as much research as you, Hinata or I, which I highly doubt, then, in the worst-case scenario, he will react as most ignorant people do, questioning your preference because you have never had a sexual experience. I am not trying to slander Kuroo, for I know him to be understanding, but, from one ace to another, it is best that you be prepared for the worst. 

You have a right to be hesitant and afraid. I was too, still am. I have yet to explain to my parents the situation that their only child, their only son, is not going to get married one day. But I do want to tell them, they are a part of the small group I wish to trust. Just as Akaashi and Hinata are in yours. 

You can choose to tell Kuroo tomorrow, in a year’s time, or never. It is your choice. You should not have to explain yourself. Just as you told him, what happens in your relationship with Akaashi pertains only to you and Akaashi, no others. Not unless you and Akaashi feel comfortable relaying such information. 

In the end, there is no step-by-step guide on how to come out. I’ve seen people surprise their parents with cakes with the words “I’m (insert sexuality)!” iced on top. Other’s email their friends or write them personal letters. Others just come out and say it. Furthermore, the way you come out if you choose to do so, does not guarantee a specific response/reaction. 

I’m sorry that I can’t give more advice. Things like this, it’s easier to discuss than anything else. Who and when you choose to discuss it with, that’s up to you. 

If you have any more questions or are just looking for someone to discuss the subject with, know that you may message me anytime. It’s nice, knowing that there are others like you, and sometimes it helps to just vent or talk. So… I’m here if you wish to talk.

Kind regards,  
Kageyama Tobio

 

***

 

When Kenma walked through the door into the bookstore, the bell chiming heavenly above his head, there was a customer at the counter talking with Akaashi. 

She looked like a CEO who’d lost her way to a meeting, wearing six-inch heels and a maroon pencil skirt that hit just below her knee. Her hair was done up in a perfect coil, a golden clasp holding it in place. She looked both terrifying and intriguing. Kenma wondered what her make-up routine was like. 

“Please, just, consider it, Mr. Akaashi.”

There was a lilt to her words, the English rolling off her tongue like it was second nature.

_British,_ Kenma realised.

The woman offered her hand, which Akaashi took and gave one firm shake. His face was neutral, almost deadpan.

“Don’t be afraid to call if you need anything,” she said, undeterred. With a sharp _click!_ , she turned on her heel and sashayed her way to the door. Kenma stumbled to the side, watching her walk down the street like it was a runway. Her eyeliner was flawless. 

Kenma turned his attention back to a very silent Akaashi. He was staring at something in his hand. Kenma picked his way to the counter, sipping on the dregs of his chai latte. 

“She didn’t buy anything,” Kenma said. 

Akaashi shook his head. “No, but she tried to.”

Kenma wrinkled his nose in worry. Akaashi sounded angry, his words almost bitter.

Kenma gently placed their teas down on the counter. “Akaashi, what’s wrong?”

In lieu of an answer, Akaashi handed over a small card, holding it between two fingers as if it were a dead fish. Kenma took it, a little uncertain. It was about the size of his palm, with a neat silver-and-blue design. It read: Classic Records, _music made magic_ on the one side, on the other was contact information and the name Daphne McGregor. 

“A record company?”

Akaashi nodded. “Apparently, someone has been recording my performances and putting them on YouTube. One of the musicians from the orchestra I toured with saw it and now,” he gestured angrily at the card, “this.”

“I don’t understand?” Kenma said. “Isn’t this a good thing?”

Akaashi’s mouth was a thin line, the corners fighting to tip downwards into a frown. His eyes looked heavy with dread. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Then why do you look so angry?” Kenma asked. He fidgeted with the card, chastising himself silently when he nearly bent a corner. 

“Because this is why I left the orchestra,” Akaashi said. “I don’t want to be commercialised. There’s a reason I don’t take money after my performances, Kenma. My time with the orchestra… it didn’t feel right. I felt trapped. Going along with something like this,” he gestured to the card once more, “would be like falling into that cage all over again.”

Kenma placed the card down alongside their forgotten teas before walking around behind the desk. He stood just an arms-length away from Akaashi, close enough for support, but still giving him his space. 

“There’s a reason so many people loiter around the square just before your performances, Akaashi.”

Akaashi’s mouth twitched, that thin line stubbornly refusing to go away. Kenma took a small step closer. “People like hearing you play. I don’t think it was right for someone to post a video without your consent, but I can only imagine how many people smile after hearing your performance.”

Akaashi took a deep breath, releasing it slowly through his nose in one long sigh. The line was gone. 

“I don’t care how many people like to hear me play,” he said, although his voice was quiet, unsure. 

“Then why play in the square at all?”

“Because –” 

Kenma raised a brow, willing Akaashi to continue.

“Because, I – I like seeing those smiles too.”

Kenma took another step closer, leaving a breath’s width between them. “Then would it be so bad to let more people hear you?”

Akaashi’s face hardened once more. He stepped away, turning his back to Kenma. “There’s a difference between playing for a small group of people and making a recording, Kenma. People will listen, yes, but what’s the point if I can’t see them? I –” he ran a hand through his mess of curls, “this probably doesn’t make any sense, I’m sorry.”

“I think I understand,” Kenma said. He was a little hurt at Akaashi’s closing him off, but he stayed where he was. If Akaashi needed space, then Kenma would give it to him. “Musicians play live, as well. They tour. They’re able to see their fans’ reactions.”

“I don’t want fans,” Akaashi spat. 

Kenma recoiled. That wasn’t Akaashi, that was someone meaner, angrier. 

Akaashi peered over his shoulder but kept his back to Kenma. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly, anger gone. “That was rude of me.”

Kenma didn’t reply. It wasn’t a question. 

Akaashi continued, “Playing for big crowds like that, you get blinded by the lights and the pomp and all the grandeur of it. You can’t see anyone, just hear a round of applause afterwards. I used to get lost in the music, would bristle with pride when I heard those claps but… after a while, it didn’t feel right. It felt like I was putting on a show, a show pony jumping through hoops for a few laughs. I know that it’s confusing but I just –” Akaashi curled in on himself, hiding his head in his hands. “I don’t want that.”

Kenma raised a hand, about to place it on Akaashi’s shoulder, but thought better of it. “Is that the only reason you wouldn’t want to sign with them?”

Akaashi lowered his hands, turning to face Kenma once more. “Pardon?”

Kenma said it again, “Is that the only reason you don’t want to sign with them?”

Akaashi’s eyes narrowed, studying Kenma. Kenma resisted the urge to duck his head, to take out his Gameboy, to walk out the door so he didn’t have to feel the weight of Akaashi’s gaze. He stayed where he was. 

Akaashi blinked then averted his gaze. Kenma saw a flash of guilt cross his face. 

“If you are implying what I think you are, then… no. That’s not the only reason.”

Kenma gritted his teeth. “You shouldn’t give up an opportunity like this to stay here.” _To stay with me._

“But I want to stay here,” Akaashi said. 

“Doing what?” Kenma said. “Stacking books and playing once a week for a crowd that’ll eventually grow bored?”

Akaashi’s eyes widened in shock.

Kenma bit his tongue. 

_No, no I didn’t mean it, I –_

“I want to stay here because of you,” Akaashi said, his voice firm and determined. But Kenma could hear the small tremble in his words, could see his hands bundling in the hem of his shirt like they always did when he was nervous. “If you hadn’t noticed, I care about you very much.”

“I do too,” Kenma whispered. 

“Then why are you being so persistent?” Akaashi said, his words breaching a yell. 

“Because this is your career, your future,” Kenma said. He could hear his voice shaking now as well, could feel prickling behind his eyes. “I refuse to be the reason you don’t make a career of something you love.”

“And what about you?” Akaashi said. 

Kenma stumbled on his words. “Wh-what?”

“You want to be a game designer,” Akaashi said, “always. The way you talk about all your ideas, Kenma. You should see the look on your face. And yet what are you studying? Design and literature? You hate design and yet you take it because it’s the only thing relatively close to what you actually want to do. Why is that?”

_Because we can’t afford it. Because I was too scared to go someplace without Kuroo. Because it would mean leaving you._

“I don’t know.”

“Yes,” Akaashi said, “you do.”

Kenma shook his head. “This isn’t about me.”

“You’re evading the problem.”

“So are you!”

They stood there, chests heaving, jaws set, neither refusing to look away first. 

Akaashi spoke first, voice so low Kenma had to strain to hear it. “I think you should leave before we say something we’ll regret.”

Kenma blinked back the tears he stubbornly refused to let shed. “Do you want me to leave?”

Akaashi remained silent, then, “No. But all the same, I think you should.”

Kenma didn’t say anything as he walked out the bookstore, the bell chimes ringing in his ears along with the words _and what about you?_ He half-jogged all the way back to the university, nearly sprinting by the time he reached the gates. He didn’t have any classes today, meaning he could hole himself up in his room. That was the plan anyway before he ran head-long into Kuroo. 

“Woah there, Kitten. You nearly bowled me over,” Kuroo’s grin slackened when he saw the first tear roll down Kenma’s cheek. “Kenma? What’s wrong?”

Kenma could only shake his head. He struggled in Kuroo’s grip, trying to get away before he made a fool of himself out here in the courtyard. People were already starting look at them funny. 

“Kenma,” Kuroo said, his grip only tightening, “what’s going on? Did something happen? Is it Akaashi?”

Kenma whimpered at the name. He struggled harder. Kuroo didn’t let go. 

People were stopping now, staring at them openly.

“Kuroo –”

“What did he do?” Kuroo said, his voice tinged with anger. “Did he hurt you?”

Kenma shook his head furiously. “No, no, I – Kuro, I ca-can’t breathe.”

Kuroo’s grip loosened and Kenma took a great gulp of air. People were still looking and Kenma couldn’t help but flinch but when he met a boy’s curious gaze. 

Kuroo looked about, taking in their small audience. He growled at them, staring them down until they got the message and started on their ways. Once the crowd had dissipated, Kuroo turned his attention back to Kenma, expression soft, voice low. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Kenma sniffed. “I want to go to my room.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Kenma hesitated. After their talk, things had been changed between them. Conversation still flowed, although there was a tension simmering deep below. Kenma didn’t feel as comfortable with physical touch as he used to. Kuroo had noticed and said nothing of it, although a hurt look would pass across his face, only to be hidden behind a joke and a sly smile. 

But Kuroo was still his friend, the closest thing he had to family besides his mother. Kuroo had been his stability during high school. Even when he went off to university and Kenma was left to finish his third year alone, Kuroo had been there for him, through visits and emails. Kenma had been his during the whole does-Bokuto-like-me fiasco, especially when they went through a particularly difficult rough patch. Kuroo had been solemn, his bright personality dimmed into barely-there embers. Kenma had given him the support and space he needed. He’d felt it wasn’t nearly enough, but, afterwards, Kuroo said it was exactly what he needed. “Even when I shut you out,” Kuroo had said, “you were still there, waiting for my stubborn ass to realise I needed help. That’s all I needed, the knowledge that you’d be there no matter what.” 

“Yes,” Kenma finally said. “I need help with something.”

Kuroo nodded. He gave Kenma a faint smile. “Alright then.”

 

***

 

Once they made it back to Kenma’s room, they just sat for a while. Kenma on his bed and Kuroo on his desk chair. Kenma waited until the tears no longer threatened to fall before he started to explain. He told Kuroo about the scout, and Akaashi’s reaction, their argument and how Akaashi’s words had shot through him, “because he’s right,” Kenma mumbled. “I’m majoring in a subject I hate. I have all these ideas and I’m not doing anything with them. I’m wasting my dream away.”

Kuroo slowly stood, walked over, and sat down on the edge of Kenma’s bed. The mattress creaked under his weight in protest. “So what do you want to do about it?”

Kenma turned his Gameboy over and over in his hands. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d played a game, had felt the need to. “I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s not good enough.”

Kenma stared at Kuroo. He shrugged. “It’s true and you know it. You got accepted to that design school and yet you came here.”

Kenma winced. “It was too expensive, and you know it.”

“You could have applied for a scholarship.”

“I know but –”

“But?”

Kenma huffed. “I would have been alone.”

Kuroo shuffled a little closer. “Yeah.”

Kenma said nothing. Kuroo sighed. “Kenma, can I be honest?”

“Always.”

“I think you were wrong not to go to that other school.”

Kenma was about to argue, but Kuroo raised a hand, stopping him. “Let me finish.”

Kenma settled back against his headboard, Gameboy forgotten in his lap. He nodded with a huff. 

Kuroo’s mouth twitched. “I get why you chose to come here instead. I know money’s always been an issue, but you can’t deny you could have applied for a scholarship.” He paused as if waiting for a reaction. Kenma didn’t give him one. He continued, “And I know it’s difficult, being around new people. Hell, even I struggle with that. But, I mean, we’re not always going to be together-together, ya know? Like, I’ll always be here for you, through a call, or an email, or if you need me to drive through because you know I will.” 

Kenma chuckled a barely-audible sound. He knew Kuroo was being serious, could see the conviction in those amber eyes. 

“But first, you gotta put your future well… first. Even if it means stepping out of your comfort zone.”

Kenma ducked behind his bangs only for Kuroo to part them like a curtain and meet Kenma’s gaze. “I’m not saying you have to pack your bags and catch the first train out of here. What I am saying is that if that’s what it takes to get your dreams going, instead of having you moping around complaining about design all the time, then so be it. But you’re the one that must step on that train, metaphorical or physical or whatever.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind Kenma’s ear. “Just think about it, Kitten.”

Kenma stayed there, sitting quietly on his bed, long after Kuroo had gone, thinking. Thinking about what Akaashi had said, what Kuroo had advised, about the design project he’d been putting off for weeks now and the research he’d done about dropping courses. 

He scrambled off the bed, nearly tripping into his desk chair as he opened his laptop.

Kenma muttered under his breath as the computer took its sweet time booting up. He misspelt his password twice before it finally opened to his desktop, a plain white background with a cat poking its head out in the corner, it’s paw playing with the folder labelled _Computer junk_.

He opened Firefox and started typing into the search bar.

**online courses for game design**

Immediately, a whole list of websites popped up, sporting catchy phrases. Most were in English. The second option looked rather promising. Kenma clicked the URL and started reading. And reading. And reading, taking notes on the different options, prices, reviews, searching the names of the teachers and looking at their history, how popular they were. He was surprised to find one or two who’d designed some of the games he himself played.

By three in the morning, he’d filled nearly half of his writing pad with notes, some highlighted, others scratched completely, deemed inapplicable. Kenma yawned, stretching out the kinks in his back. He was going to sorely regret this when he had to wake up in less than five hours for his nine o’clock lecture. But for now, he smiled a little to himself, flopping into bed still fully dressed, except for Akaashi’s jacket which was hung up in the cupboard. 

Kenma burrowed under his duvet, willing his mind to calm down. After his lecture, he was going to need to make an appointment with the dean of education. His stomach coiled with nerves at the idea. 

_No, I have to do this._

The knots slackened, although they were still there, ready to tighten once more. And they probably would when Kenma had to sit down in front of that desk and explain to the dean why he was going to drop his major. But he was going to do it anyway. He’d wanted to do it since his first year already. 

_I’m going to make a mess of things,_ he thought, grumbling into his pillow. 

But it was worth it, if it meant moving forward, meant following the path he’d been meaning to since his first year. 

Worth it if it meant showing Akaashi that he was serious about this, about his future, about them. 

Eventually, Kenma managed to fall asleep, his dreams filled with music and shocks of emerald green.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma and Akaashi take the time to sort out their own problems before coming together to solve theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied terribly way back in January when I said I was nearly done. I've been procrastinating terribly on this, but I have the final chapter nearly finished and I'm planning on posting it tomorrow even if it takes me all night to finish writing it. I don't really know if anyone's still following this story. If you are, thank you for your patience and kindness. This fic has taken me longer than it should have but as promised, I am completing it, even if it took me nearly two years to do it. Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy the chapter and I'll see you tomorrow for the final chapter of White Noise.

Kenma was only able to get an appointment with the Dean that Friday. Which meant a week of waiting anxiously. A week of suffering through design lectures he’d stopped listening to a long time ago. A week of one too many chai lattes and staying holed up in his room doing research, research, research. Of troubled looks from Bokuto and Kuroo. Of not going to the second bookstore because guilt kept him chained to his bed. But there was also stubbornness in that mixture of guilt and anger. He’d been right, just as much as Akaashi had been. But looking back on their argument... Kenma knew he’d said some hurtful things, as had Akaashi. He hoped they would be able to talk about it soon, but he needed to sort himself out first. He needed to prioritize himself, just as Akaashi needed to prioritize his own problems. They both had some things to work out. That was what was important.

The day before his scheduled meeting with the Dean, Kenma phoned his mother. He’d written down what he was going to say but as soon as she answered the phone, all his notes went down the drain.

“Kuroo says you’ve been a little off,” she said immediately, no hello, no how are you. Straight to the point. But that’s how they were, they didn’t dance around subjects that needed discussing.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately,” Kenma said, which was an understatement.

“About?”

“About myself, and what I want to do with my future.”

Kenma could picture her lips pursing.

“Hm?”

“I want to stop design.”

“Why?” she said. It wasn’t harsh or accusing. Just curious. “I thought that was the closest thing to game design?”

“Exactly. It’s close, but not what I actually want to do. I’m tired of doing projects I have no interest in, of listening to theory lessons that has absolutely nothing to do with game design. I’ve been doing some research...”

“And?”

“And I’ve found a few online courses that look really good, and they’re not expensive. I checked, compared prices. I’ll send you links so you can see for yourself. But I won’t sign up unless you say it’s okay.”

It was his mother’s money. He was already here on scholarship thanks to his good marks back in high school. After his dad left, Kenma’s mom had to pick up two jobs in order to keep them afloat. It had been... difficult at first. But they’d gotten through it, Kenma cooking and cleaning the house in between school and volleyball while his mother worked her shifts. It was better now. She had a good job, one she fairly enjoyed that paid well and wasn’t too bad in terms of hours. But that wasn’t something Kenma was going to take advantage of. He knew how difficult it had been for his mom, knew how drained she’d been at the end of each day.

Not again. Never again.

“I’ll have to see,” she said after a minute of silence. “I do want to read up myself. Email me the links and I’ll get back to you at the end of the weekend. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Kenma breathed. He’d known that his mom would most likely say yes, but there had been that small slither of doubt, that tiny voice at the back of his brain that whispered worries and fears. That voice had a muzzle on it now.

“Um,” Kenma said, “I’ve arranged a meeting with the Dean to discuss if I could change my major to just creative writing and language. I still want to get a degree. It’s good to have one.”

He heard his mother smile as she said, “Yes. It’s always good.”

“Okay.”

“Kenma?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kenma whispered.

“And if you ever need to talk, you know I’m here.”

Kenma nodded even though she couldn’t see. She knew though.

“Alright. Let me know what the Dean says and don’t forget to send those links.”

“Hm.”

Kenma ended the call. They never needed to say goodbye. It was never really goodbye, seeing as they’d talk again.

Kenma sat down at his desk, ignoring his forever unfinished design project to write his mother an email, attaching the links as well as a short description of what each website said, including the ones that were offering the cheapest courses. Once he’d clicked send, Kenma sighed a heavy sigh of relief, sinking down low in his seat.

He didn’t have any more classes for the day and Kuroo was at volleyball practice with Bokuto, so that gave Kenma the rest of the day off. He had a book that needed finishing. It was another one of Akaashi’s recommendations.

Kenma fingered the pages, not willing to crack open the book and continue where he’d left off. It had been a while since he read the book as well.

_Focus. You need to focus on yourself right now._

Kenma opted for playing on his Gameboy until dinner instead. He managed to unlock a new level and was halfway through the task when there was a knocking at his door. Kuroo and Kenma had agreed earlier to walk to dinner together, even though Kuroo’s room was on the other side of campus. Kuroo managed to shove the door open after his second attempt. Kenma still hadn’t bothered to go to maintenance to fix the lock. He probably never would. It added character to his room, and he’d grown almost fond of it. Another little detail in his life.

“Kenma?” Kuroo said, peeping around the door. “You decent?”

Kenma blew a strand of wayward fringe out of his face. “When am I not?”

Kuroo grinned his Cheshire-grin. “Just checking. You ready for dinner?”

Kenma chucked his Gameboy to the side. He slid into his sneakers and pocketed his phone before walking over to Kuroo. “As I’ll ever be.”

They were halfway down the steps when Kuroo asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Kenma murmured. “A little nervous but, I’ve rehearsed what I want to say –”

“Not about tomorrow,” Kuroo said, stopping Kenma with a light hand on his arm. “I meant about Akaashi.”

Kenma sighed. “Bokuto,” he muttered.

Kuroo shrugged. “Who else?”

Kenma sighed again. He’d been doing that a lot lately. “It’s not important right now.”

“But he’s your boyfriend.”

Kenma faltered at the word. He knew that was what it was, what they were, but even after these last couple months, the word still felt foreign to him. Like an English word he’d yet to learn, still testing out the sounds. He didn’t ever really like labels even though they helped everyone, including him, to understand things. Boyfriend. Somehow, the word sounded insubstantial, like it couldn’t even begin to explain what he and Akaashi have. Had? No. No, have. Kenma wasn’t sure about a lot of things, but he was certain about that. He and Akaashi had never fought before now, but it happens. He and Kuroo argue, Kuroo and Bokuto argue, he and his mother argue. It’s a part of loving someone. You try and understand each other but sometimes you just can’t. You can’t agree on everything. No one can.

“We both need to focus on ourselves right now,” Kenma said, continuing down the stairs. “Once I’ve talked to the Dean I’ll... I’ll try and see if he wants to talk.”

Kuroo didn’t look satisfied with that answer but didn’t question Kenma further. During dinner, Bokuto gave Kenma funny looks. He’d been doing that the entire week. Kenma didn’t blame him. Akaashi was Bokuto’s closest friend. They were practically brothers. It was to be expected. Bokuto didn’t say anything about the matter, though. He’d learned over the last two years when and when not to overstep. Kuroo and Bokuto were good like that, good for each other. They were both rambunctious scoundrels but they also knew when to put the other one in check. They balanced each other strangely well. Or maybe not so strangely.

That night Kenma slept fitfully. He’d fall asleep only to have a shock of panic sting his chest, causing him to jolt awake and overthink everything again.

Suffice to say, he’d be wearing a good amount of concealer the next morning.

 

***

 

“Are you quite sure about this?”

Kenma was sitting in the Dean’s office, trying not to look too nervous. His fingers itched with the want of his Gameboy but he’d hidden it the night before in his sock drawer for a reason.

Kenma nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. For nearly a year.” He didn’t realise it was true until he said it. Since he’d first started design, he’d decided that he loathed it. It just wasn’t meant to be.

The Dean hummed in thought. “Well, you have shown promise in your other chosen major. And it isn’t a first for someone to drop a subject, although it isn’t really recommended doing so in your second year.” He gave Kenma a look which Kenma interpreted as suggestive, a look that said, _this is not a good idea._ Maybe it wasn’t, but it still felt right. And that’s what mattered.

“I understand,” Kenma said, quiet but firm.

The Dean considered him a moment longer before giving a sigh of resignation. “Then I suppose, if that’s what you wish, then you can move forward with your decision.”

Kenma sat up, bright and alert. “Really?”

The Dean nodded, giving a small smile. “Yes.”

Kenma rose from his seat, taking the Dean’s hand and giving it one firm shake. He didn’t really want to, but he knew it was the polite thing to go.

“Thank you,” he said, trying to contain the buzzing sensation working all the way down to his toes.

_He said yes. I can’t do this. I can really, really do this._

He was still buzzing with excitement as he exited the administration building, so busy celebrating in his head he didn’t even realise he’d bumped into someone until he felt two gentle hands on his biceps.

“Gomen – Akaashi?”

Akaashi blinked down at him. “Kenma.”

“What are you doing here?” It sounded rude even though Kenma didn’t mean it to be. Akaashi had never entered the university grounds before. Whenever he walked Kenma back from town, he’d say his goodbyes at the gate, as if he couldn’t step past the threshold, forever stuck on the outside. Kenma had never asked him about it. Although, maybe he should have. Another thing to add to the list of things to talk about.

“I’m here to speak with the Dean,” Akaashi said.

That was not what Kenma had expected. “Why?”

Akaashi dropped his hands, averting his gaze. “I –” He cleared his throat. “I’m wanting to speak to him about enrolling next year.”

_What._

At Kenma’s shocked look Akaashi bit his lip, wringing his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Kenma wanted to reach out and intertwine their fingers if only to stop Akaashi’s bad habit. But also, maybe because he missed holding Akaashi’s hand. He held himself back, however. He didn’t want to overstep. Not now that they were talking for the first time in a week of silence.

“What do you want to study?” Kenma found himself asking.

“Your university actually has a very good music programme,” Akaashi said to the ground. “And ancient history also looks very enticing.”

Kenma arched a brow. “Ancient history?”

Akaashi shrugged. “It was one of my chosen subjects in high school. I rather enjoyed it.”

“And what about literature?” They were talking as if nothing had happened. Even though something had. A big something. But Kenma pushed that thought away for now because it was Akaashi. They were talking and that shouldn’t have made him feel as warm and fuzzy as it did but... it did.

The corner of Akaashi’s mouth twitched upwards. “I think I’d rather keep that as a personal hobby rather than a major. I think studying books might ruin the reading experience.”

Kenma breathed a soft chuckle. “You’d still be good at it.”

“Probably.” Akaashi peeked shyly at Kenma from underneath his eyelashes. “And what about you?”

Kenma looked back to the administration office. “I was talking to the Dean about dropping design.”

Akaashi blinked, finally looking at Kenma properly. “And?”

“And he said yes.”

Akaashi smiled. “That’s great. That’s really... I’m happy for you.”

Kenma nodded. “I talked to my mom as well, about doing game design courses online. We’re going to discuss it more next week, but I think it might be a good possibility.”

“And your other major?”

“I’ll keep with it. I enjoy creative writing. It helps with game ideas and storylines.”

Akaashi hummed. “I can imagine.”

They stood there a moment, neither saying anything. It was like they’d just met each other for the first time all over again. Maybe it was.

“I should probably –” Akaashi indicated the admin building behind them.

Kenma nodded.

Akaashi started towards the building but stopped halfway. “Can I meet you afterwards? I shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes.”

Again, Kenma nodded. “I’d like that.”

Akaashi gave a tentative smile before pushing through the heavy oak doors of the admin building, leaving a slightly confused and happy Kenma in his wake.

 

***

 

After his rather successful meeting with the Dean, Akaashi walked out of the admin building with a feeling of elation but also a twinge of worry in his chest. He thought that maybe he’d made up his conversation with Kenma. That it had been a daydream only, trying to make him feel better after their argument. But no. Akaashi found Kenma standing where he had left him, playing a game on his phone while he waited for Akaashi. With spring slowly settling in, Kenma had started to forgo his usual sweaters and Akaashi’s puffy jacket. Today, he was wearing a floral button down shirt with a pair of overalls on top. White socks with cat faces on them peeked out from his white tennis shoes. It was colourful and quirky, unlike Akaashi’s rather monotone white-and-black ensemble. But Kenma had always been the more intriguing of the two (in Akaashi’s mind anyway).

Kenma looked up from his game. They shared a small smile. Kenma pocketed his phone before turning and leading Akaashi to the campus coffee shop. On entering, Akaashi immediately understood why Kenma talked about this shop so often. It was eclectic, with mismatching furniture and a book nook covered with plush cushions and couches. There were multiple shelves of books and knickknacks and seemingly odd yet charming decorum.

“Kenma!”

“Hello, Lev.”

A tall man with silver-blonde hair was waving frantically at them behind the counter. On seeing them, a man about half his size grinned at Kenma.

“The usual?” he asked.

Kenma nodded. “And a tea please.”

The shorter man winked before getting started on their order.

They sat down at a corner table, away from the hustle and bustle of students sipping hungrily at their coffees or chattering loudly in large groups of friends.

“What did he say?”

“Hm?” Akaashi tore his gaze away from the window. He’d been caught up in his thoughts. Of what it would be like to be one of these students, sitting huddled over textbooks and scrabbling to finish last-minute essays. It was something he had considered after graduating, but then the orchestra happened. But now… now he had a chance to catch up.

“The Dean,” Kenma said, tilting his head a little to the side; birdlike.

“Ah,” Akaashi said, bringing his full attention back to the conversation. “He said I might need to do an extra course or two so I can catch up, but I’ll be able to join the second-year students come autumn.”

Kenma nodded. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Akaashi smiled to himself. “Me too.”

“Here you are.” The shorter man, Yaku Akaashi read off his name tag, set down their orders: Kenma’s chai latte in a tall glass that could have been a beer mug and a full pot of tea for Akaashi. He had a feeling Kenma would need to help him finish it.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said.

Yaku nodded, starting back to the counter only to stop and really look at Akaashi, staring him down with an inquisitive eye. Akaashi felt like he was a baby bird about to be pounced by a cat.

“Are you Akaashi?” Yaku asked.

Akaashi nodded.

Yaku smiled knowingly. “Good choice,” he said to Kenma before heading back to the counter.

Kenma’s ears turned red, his shoulders hunching a little.

Akaashi held back a chuckle, opting to pour himself a cup of tea instead.

They sat in a silence for a while, enjoying their respective drinks and sharing occasional fleeting looks.

Kenma was the first to say, “I’m sorry.”

Akaashi paused, just about to take a sip from his cup. He brought it down slowly back to its saucer.

“I’m the one that should apologise –”

“We both technically need to apologise.”

Akaashi let out a small breath of air. “Yes. Yes, I suppose we do.”

“So, I’m sorry,” Kenma said. “For pushing you, when you didn’t want to be pushed.”

Akaashi shook his head. “You were trying to push me in the right direction. Or, what you thought was the right direction. It might be but it’s not the only choice I have.”

Kenma nodded, his eyes trained on his empty cup.

“I’m sorry for being cruel.” Akaashi continued. “The things I said... I didn’t have the right –”

“They were true.”

“That doesn’t mean that I had the right to say them.”

Again, Kenma nodded. He looked up at Akaashi, his eyes wide and molten-gold in the late-afternoon sunlight.

Akaashi forced back a sigh.

“I forgive you,” Kenma said.

“I forgive you, too,” Akaashi whispered.

Kenma hummed before picking up his spoon and starting to scoop out the dregs of his foam.

Akaashi took up his cup once more, inhaling the sweet herbal scent.

“Are you performing tomorrow?” Kenma asked around his spoon.

“I’m not sure.”

At Kenma’s questioning look, Akaashi continued, “After that agent told me someone had been recording my performances I’ve been a little… hesitant. Bokuto found one of the videos and, well, it’s not bad. No one’s said anything bad. But it’s just… It’s a lot more than what I’ve ever wanted. Ever felt comfortable with. I play in the square because it’s intimate. I can see the crowd and their reactions, instead of being on a bright stage where everyone’s faces are blacked out. It’s no different on the internet.”

“You could report them, ask them to take the videos down.”

Akaashi shook his head. “No, that would only cause trouble.”

Kenma nodded solemnly.

“So, I think I’ll wait a while. Take a break from all... that.”

“But you won’t stop playing?” Kenma said, worry etched between his brows.

Akaashi chuckled at his earnestness. “No. I’d never do that. I’ve actually started writing another song.” Akaashi ducked his head a little, willing his rising blush to go away. He hadn’t planned to tell Kenma this, but it felt right now that they were talking again. “It’s... it’s about us. Or, rather, how we met, that first time you came to my performance.”

Kenma blinked owlishly. Then blinked again, his mouth parting slightly.

“Ah,” he said.

“Obviously if that makes you uncomfortable –”

“No. I mean, I’d like to hear it. When it’s finished.”

Akaashi met Kenma’s gaze. Kenma was smiling that small smile of his. The corner of his mouth tilted slightly, but still making small crinkled in the corners of his eyes. It was endearing, one of the first things Akaashi and grown to love about Kenma.

“I’ll let you know when it’s finished,” Akaashi said, relief swelling in his chest. “Although it might take a while.”

“We have time,” Kenma said, reaching for the teapot and the spare cup Yaku had brought. He poured himself enough tea to nearly spill over the brim.

Akaashi laughed quietly to himself as Kenma heaved three overloaded teaspoons of sugar into his cup.

“Yes,” Akaashi said, quietly, almost more to himself. “Yes, I suppose we do.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet.

**Epilogue**

 

Kenma was still half asleep when Akaashi gave him his cup of tea.

"Good morning," Akaashi said, placing the cup down on the bedside table. He smiled at Kenma, who blinked blearily back at him. He squinted at the clock on Akaashi's bedside table and saw it was only eight o'clock.

"Hm," he hummed, digging his nose into his pillows.

Akaashi chuckled before getting back under the covers, a giant mug of coffee already waiting for him. Akaashi’s pillows acted as a temporary backrest against the headboard. With his knees drawn up, a new book lying in his lap, Akaashi idly flicked over a page and began to read.

Kenma stayed where he was a little while longer but sleep was now evading him, ebbing away every time he heard the swipe of a page being turned.

He flipped over onto his back and sat up on his elbows. He stretched, arching his back before reaching for his cup of tea and taking a sip. He was careful not to burn his tongue.

"Hm, perfect," he mumbled to himself.

He saw Akaashi peek at him from the corner of his eye, but neither man said a word. Akaashi continued to read his book, Kenma to wake up and sip on his tea.

It was Saturday morning, and neither of them had any plans for the day.

_Perfect,_ Kenma thought.

Kenma turned his head to look at Akaashi. His lips were moving silently, mouthing the words on the pages. A little bit of light was trickling in from behind the curtains, giving Akaashi a halo around his blue-black hair. His green eyes looked golden for a moment, his eyelashes black stars fanning across his sharp cheekbones before he turned his head.

Green met gold

"Hi," Kenma said.

"Hi," Akaashi murmured back, his fingers fiddling with the page he was about to turn.

Kenma placed his cup down. His tea could wait.

Akaashi seemed to have the same idea as he placed a ribbon between the pages of his book, marking his place before setting his book to one side.

Kenma shuffled closer. Akaashi did the same.

Their noses bumped and Akaashi chuckled, his hand coming up to hide the sound. Kenma wrapped his fingers loosely around Akaashi's wrist, pushing his hand down. It was still one of Akaashi’s bad habits, to hide his smiles.

Akaashi's heavy-lidded gaze was all Kenma could see, forest-green eyes and inky black lashes.

"Can I kiss you?" Akaashi asked the words barely above a whisper.

Kenma nodded before shutting his eyes. He leaned in.

When their lips brushed it was barely a peck, more a suggestion of a kiss. It was languid and lazy, Kenma’s hand still wrapped loosely around Akaashi’s wrist. He slid his fingers up to twine with Akaashi’s, their warmth mingling.

Akaashi smiled against Kenma’s lips before pulling away, just enough so he could meet Kenma’s eyes.

“This okay?” he asked. Whenever he was unsure, Akaashi would always check with Kenma, to see if he was comfortable. It applied to Akaashi as well, if Kenma ever thought Akaashi needed his space, or that they were going too fast, doing too much.

“Hm, you okay?” Kenma asked in return.

Akaashi nodded, squeezing Kenma’s hand slightly.

_I am if you are._

They met each other halfway. Kenma was still sluggish from sleep but slowly, his senses began waking up. He became aware of the crinkle of the sheets, of the taste of coffee on Akaashi’s tongue, the way their hands melted into each other.

Akaashi leaned forward a little more then paused, waiting for Kenma’s consent. Kenma complied, pulling Akaashi down the rest of the way until they were lying down on their sides. Kenma tangled his legs with Akaashi.

“Ah!” Akaashi jumped.

“Sorry,” Kenma murmured. His feet were forever cold.

“It’s okay,” Akaashi chuckled, not trying to hide his amusement this time.

His arms slowly encircled Kenma’s waist, bringing them even closer together.

They never really went further than this, their hips barely brushing, only a strip of skin showing as their T-shirts rode up. Sometimes Kenma would feel comfortable enough to straddle Akaashi’s hips, but that was a rare occasion (which made it far more special, according to Akaashi).

Akaashi was okay with this, with the small amount of intimacy they had. Over the years, they’d grown accustomed to each other, Kenma willing to explore a little with his hands every now and then, Akaashi deepening their kisses. Sometimes Kenma couldn’t handle it. Other times Akaashi felt uncomfortable. Both men were willing to take a step back and give each other the space they needed to breathe, to regroup their thoughts. They trusted each other, were patient and understanding. Arguments would come up, someone might cross a line, but they always came back to one another, constantly circling in each other’s orbits. They’d talk about it, walk through it, and learn from it. That was how they did things. They talked, and they trusted. As it should be.

“Eggs and bacon?” Akaashi asked once their kisses became the bare brushing of lips.

“French toast,” Kenma murmured into the juncture of Akaashi’s neck and shoulder.

“Only if you help.”

Kenma nodded. “In a minute,” he said.

Akaashi rubbed soothing circles into the small of Kenma’s back. “Alright. It’s not like we have anything else to do anyway.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t you still need to send that rough draft through?”

“It can wait till tomorrow,” Kenma mumbled. His online course project was to create story outline for a ten-level game. It was due on Monday, he just needed to figure out what the final level would be and then it would be done. But that could wait. Right now, he just wanted lay in bed and breath in the vanilla-scent of their shared sheets. Kenma had always loved the smell of Akaashi’s apartment, back when they first met. Akaashi had said he’d never noticed it until Kenma pointed it out.

“You’re sweet without trying,” Kenma had said. That made Akaashi laugh and Kenma blush profusely, which only made Akaashi laugh even more. It felt like ages ago, moving in together. Like it had always been like that.

“If you say so,” Akaashi said. “But if you end up pulling an all-nighter tomorrow you’re sleeping in the lounge.”

“Mmhmm,” Kenma hummed even though they both knew Akaashi didn’t mean it.

They laid there, enjoying the early morning quiet and the sound of each other’s soft breathing. Akaashi was the one who eventually rolled them out of bed to make breakfast.

Akaashi made the French toast while Kenma sprinkled them with cinnamon sugar. Once that was done, they migrated to the lounge to eat their breakfast, Akaashi with his legs propped on the coffee table and Kenma with his legs in Akaashi’s lap.

Kenma was starting on his second slice when Akaashi’s phone buzzed. He leaned over Kenma’s legs to the coffee table, swapping out his plate for his phone.

He read the message and smiled. “Bokuto and Kuroo want to go out for dinner tonight. What should I say.”

Kenma pursed his lips in thought, even though he already knew the answer. “Sure,” he said, finishing his second slice in one giant bite.

Akaashi chuckled before typing out his reply. He put his phone back on the coffee table, face down. “Until then,” he said, “what do you want to do?”

“Relax. Maybe you could finally play me that song?”

Akaashi’s cheeks flushed bright pink. “It’s not ready yet.”

“You’ve said that for the last two years,” Kenma said, arching a brow. Akaashi knew he was joking. Kenma would never rush Akaashi in writing his music, just how Akaashi wouldn’t rush Kenma when he was making a new game.

“Well…” Akaashi said, wringing his hands. “Maybe I can play you the first part?”

“Really?”

Akaashi nodded. He lifted Kenma’s feet off his lap, placing them gently on the floor before heading back to their room for his violin case. It was his classical violin.

“I’m too lazy to set up the electric,” Akaashi grinned embarrassedly.

Kenma nodded, starting on his third slice of French toast while Akaashi tuned his violin.

Once he was satisfied, Akaashi took his stance. Feet shoulder-width apart, back straight, chin up.

He let out a soft, elongated breath before placing his bow on the strings. He met Kenma’s eyes. Kenma smiled. Akaashi began to play.

It started out soft, tentative. As if someone were singing a lullaby to a child. Akaashi drew out the notes, leaving a beat of silence before continuing. Slowly, slowly the lullaby became stronger, the imaginary voice growing and swelling. Kenma could sense words tingling in the back of his head as if he knew the lyrics but couldn't shape the words perfectly; a suggestion of a word. That was okay, though. He didn't need to know the exact works to know the meaning of the lullaby.

He could imagine it. Someone standing alone, even though they are amongst a crowd. Lonely. Waiting for something, hoping. And then suddenly, a small sunburst of white. A figure appears, parting the crowd, everyone else melting away until the lonely person is no longer alone. No longer longing. No longer feeling as if no one understands.

The music swelled, Akaashi eyes closed in concentration as he reaches a climax in the song. Kenma thinks he’ll stop there, seeing as Akaashi promised a sneak peek only. But Akaashi continues, his bow sweeping across the strings, fingers gliding from one chord to the next. In Kenma’s head, the two figures make their way towards each other. Both hesitant but curious, wanting. Wanting to meet, wanting to know one another. They reach out, hands moving devastatingly slowly until finally, finally, they touch. Their fingers brush and colours erupt around them. Bright blues and rose pink, with spots of sunshine yellow and plum purple. They twirl around each other, dancing in time to the music, swirling like the night sky in a Van Gogh painting. As Akaashi slows down once more, so the colours begin to settle until what’s left is emerald green and honey-gold. They intermingle, slowly bleeding into each other as the figures embrace. Everything turns white until the figures vanish into one another.

Akaashi tucks his bow away, plucking gently at the strings, gradually slowing down until he plucks the final note.

Akaashi stared at his violin as if it had come alive and played itself.

“I thought you said you weren’t finished,” Kenma whispered.

“I wasn’t,” Akaashi said, meeting Kenma’s gaze. “It sort of just… happened.”

Kenma gave a soft smile, the little one that Akaashi liked. “Well… it’s beautiful.”

“It’s about us.”

Kenma nodded. “I could see it, in here.” He tapped his temple. “Someone whose lonely finding another lonely person. They reach for each other, and when they finally touch they create something new.”

Akaashi said nothing as he placed his violin and bow back in their case. Said nothing as he came and sat back down next to Kenma on the couch. Said nothing as he cupped Kenma cheek.

He leaned in. Kenma met him halfway. It was a soft kiss, something small yet intimate.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said.

“For what?”

“Just… thank you.”

Kenma blinked up at Akaashi. “Thank you too.”

Akaashi chuckled, kissing Kenma’s nose. “Come on, we should clean up the kitchen.”

Kenma pulled a face. Akaashi rolled his eyes. Kenma allowed himself to be dragged to his feet and to the kitchen, opting to dry the dishes while Akaashi washed them. It was so mundane. So normal. And yet it made Kenma’s heart swell with happiness. He could get used this. Already had, if he was honest with himself. A simple life with the man he loved. The person he could trust to understand and try to when he couldn’t. A person to do nothing and everything with.

Akaashi smiled at him as he placed a dollop of soap bubbles on Kenma’s nose. Kenma wriggled his nose. Akaashi laughed, his eyes crinkling. He didn’t cover his mouth this time.

_Yes,_ Kenma thought as he wiped away the soap suds from his nose, as he blew bubbles into Akaashi’s hair, as they laughed and giggled, splashing water at each other like they were children.

_I can get used to this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends White Noise. When I first started this fic, it was because I was obsessed with Haikyuu and particularly the dynamic between Akaashi and Kenma's personalities. As the story progressed, however, it became more of a way for me express my coming to terms with being on the asexual spectrum. Two years later, and I'm still a little wayward, but writing Kenma's story did help me a lot. And I hope it has helped others as well, whether it gives you a better understanding of what it means to be on the asexual spectrum, gives you a sense of solidarity or just helps give a word for what you've been feeling, whatever small way this fic helped, I'm happy and proud to have written this piece (no matter how long it took me to finish it) and shared it with you all.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed Akaashi and Kenma's story.


End file.
